


Contingency Theory

by Macx



Series: Fate Lines [8]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychic Bond, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesen are out for his blood. Well, more than usual. Nick has no idea what makes him such an attractive target, aside from being the local Grimm. But why now and why so suddenly? Soon Nick not only has assassins on his heels, but also a much, much bigger problem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: here and there for S2 episodes, but very much out of S2 context

The woman stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a cell phone against her ear, her beautiful face distorted in annoyance. Around her, the office room was kept in darkness. The curtains were drawn closed and the lights kept dim. To her conversation partner at the other end of the line, she was nothing but a voice. If he had been able to see what was behind the curtains, he might have guessed she was calling from the Old World continent. He might even have seen a landmark or two, lit up in the night to enhance the skyline of Vienna. He might also have known nothing of the sort and simply ignored the beautiful sight.

"Well?" she asked, her voice cold and impatient.

He couldn’t see her honeyblond hair. He couldn’t see her sharp eyes, the pale skin, the expensive jewellery. He couldn’t take in the black dress that ended just above her knees. A simple cut, but expensive, designer-made, and showing off her slender figure just right. He didn’t see a classic beauty of a woman, aware of her looks and using her body to get what she wanted. And she always got it.

"It will cost you," the man on the other end of the line finally said.

"You can rest assured, your payment will be more than enough."

"I hope so. I’d hate to get on his radar for that. You hear all kinds of things about the Grimm and he’s good."

"Rumors," she said disdainfully, her smooth, pale forehead wrinkling a little.

"Ah, but rumors always hold a kernel of truth. I know the target from more than just rumors. To take him down, I'll need the best. They’ll want more money the moment they know the risk factor."

"Send me your bill," was the answer. "All I want is results. I want him out of my way!"

With that the call ended. She put the cell into her small purse and left the room, rejoining the party.

* * *

It was a cloudy day with a few sunny spells here or there. The weather didn’t stop the flow of tourists and city natives from going about their business. One Kodak moment chased the next as children raced across the pedestrian streets, stopped at vendors and Moms and Dads bought ice cream, sweets and hot dogs for their off spring.

August had been an exceptionally uneventful month. A mysterious homicide case had turned out to be an angry colleague of the victim wanting the deceased’s job. An apparently kidnapped heir to a small fortune turned out to be a teenage runaway who wanted nothing to do with her parents. Puberty strikes back. That she had left blood in her bed and made everyone believe she might be injured or worse hadn’t made the case any more extraordinary. 

September didn’t really get any more hair-raising.

So the last eight weeks had been the most calm and relaxing ones in Nick Burkhardt’s life. Well, not that he didn’t get caseloads that were gruesome or weird or both or just plain sick. It wasn’t that he and his partner Hank Griffin weren’t investigating murderers, accidental homicides, hit-and-runs, a drunk driver who had killed a young boy on his way to school – and who had been driving his own kid to school that very day – or rage kills.

No, it was the normal police work, with pounding the pavement and interviewing suspects and getting frustrated by so many stonewalls and dead ends.

And there were a few that had wesen as the center of their investigation, too, but it was so much easier now to deal with matters that his partner knew. Nick ran into old and new wesen, learned some more about the Grimm world, and he helped some of them along the way.

But all that aside, it was truly better because Hank knew. He was now part of it, Nick could bring him in, he understood that some things couldn’t be written down in an official report and had to remain off the records, and Nick no longer had to come up with impossible scenarios or half-baked explanations.

Because Hank knew.

They talked a lot about past cases. Hank brought them up, Nick added to the ‘normalcy’ if it had been a wesen case, and he saw the light go on whenever Hank finally had an explanation for their high solving rate. Not that he argued against it. He and Nick were a damn good team, even without the added Grimm part, but now he truly understood.

Nick patiently explained wesen to him. He had introduced Monroe and while the blutbad was wary and maybe even a tad nervous, the two men were no longer circling around each other. When Hank had invited Monroe to a beer, the ice had truly been broken. And Monroe had carefully detailed blutbaden to Hank, trying not to scare him too much.

Hank took it well, though not with enthusiasm or wide-eyed innocence. He accepted it as part of his work now. It also didn’t mean he jumped into Grimm assistance with both feet. If left to him, Hank would have gladly never dealt with a wesen case ever again, but that was completely out of the question. So he went with the flow, he watched his partner, and he learned fine nuances in his behavior when Nick recognized a wesen as such.

Leaning against their car, paper coffee cups in hand, Hank glanced at him.

“Is it always like this?”

Nick chuckled. “Like what?”

Hank shrugged. “Okay, it is. I just need to get used to it. Still. Does it ever stop freaking you out?”

“It’s like police work, Hank. If it stops making you feel anything you should give it up.” Nick sipped his coffee. “I think Aunt Marie was at that point one day and continued working. She couldn’t just hand in her badge. You’re a Grimm; you can’t switch it off. It’s in your genes. She became harder, colder, more detached, and she took lives no matter who they were. When she died she told me to only kill the bad ones. I think it’s what we were supposed to be hundreds of years ago, then everything got turned around.”

“There are fine examples of that in every history book in every country,” Hank said slowly.

“Yeah. I have a very bloody family history.”

His partner looked at him long and hard.

“I’m not a killer, Hank. I’m not going around beheading wesen.”

“Good to know.”

“When we ran into Monroe the first time I saw what he was. I saw a guy turn part wolf. After I saw some kind of troll go at my aunt. I didn’t kill him. I’m a cop, Hank.”

Griffin nodded. 

“Those I had to shoot… It was my last resort.”

“Okay. You aunt… she came around in the end when she told you to only kill the bad ones, hm?”

Nick nodded slowly. “There was a lot of other stuff going on at the time that I wasn’t aware of.”

Hank shot him a quizzical look, but Nick didn’t want to get into that right here and right now.

“There’s a game on tonight,” his partner said casually, the invitation clear.

Nick smiled. “Sounds good.”

 

By the end of the game, which none of the two men had really watched, Hank knew about Marie’s deal with Renard, about Nick’s family, the history of violence, and so much more.

Looking into the slightly gray expression, Nick knew his partner had a lot to digest.

“Man, Nick…” Hank only muttered. “Talk about emotional baggage!”  
And so much more.

But it was easier to handle matters now. He had friends among the wesen world, he had a partner who knew, he had a mate who had stopped shielding him from politics and involved him as he should be involved as a Guardian’s right hand.

 

Nick kept up with his training. Actually, he had set his levels higher, was spending a lot more time on mastering the various weapons, and he worked on his endurance and flexibility. Sean had agreed to help, making only one sly reference to Nick’s flexibility. Otherwise the training was serious business that left the young Grimm aching and bruised most of the time, but it also worked on his already present edge.

Seeing how he also advanced concerning his ability to take on a regnant and actually think he could score a few points now and then, Nick knew he was learning more than other Grimms in the past. Having Monroe as a second training partner helped him vary his take on situations, and whenever a real-life chase or confrontation happened with a wesen, Nick noticed his growing abilities to handle things.

He wasn’t perfect.

He still got banged up.

Wesen still got the jump on him sometimes. But his senses adjusted. He listened to that tingle, that strange buzz or whisper. Never more, never clear, but it was there, this warning, this awareness. 

He still wasn’t faster than his mate.

He still couldn’t see in the dark.

He still didn’t have extraordinary hearing.

He worked with what he had.

Yes, things were calmer now.

And sometimes, when matters were at the calmest point in life, things hit the fan.

Violently.

* * *

The blood rushed in his ears and his heart hammered in his chest. His lungs were struggling with each breath. He felt winded. His muscles ached, his whole body hurt and maybe there was a broken bone or two. If not broken, then definitely cracked. 

Nick Burkhardt lay on his bay, staring at the ceiling above him. Way above him. It was a huge building, an old, abandoned warehouse, and the sun was shining through the cracks in the steel roof. Patches of light dotted the floor, dust dancing in the spotlight. 

Nick closed his eyes and steeled himself, then rolled onto one side and slowly got up. His ribs protested and he felt a little lightheaded. Concussion? Then again, getting thrown around by an insane wesen fixated on killing him wasn’t healthy.

He glanced at the still body not far away. The eyes staring back at him were empty; dead. Dead like the freakishly fast creature that had been after him for whatever reason.

The kill had been more luck than ability on his part, his brain told him. 

Nick swayed a little on his feet, then his head cleared some more. He put his weapon back into its holster and walked over to the dead body. The man had spoken little and those words had been laced with an accent. Now Nick had a dead body on his hands and he had no idea why the man had been after him.

Well, maybe just for the sole reason because he was a Grimm. That was usually enough. Being a Grimm painted a big bull’s eyes on his back anyway. 

Nick sighed and pulled out his cell. He needed help.

Help with a shovel.

* * *

“He was a mauvais dentes?!”

Nick winced as Monroe tightened the bandage around his chest. “I don’t know if that’s what they are called, but if it means vicious, long teeth and a bad attitude, then yeah, it was that.”

“Dude!” Monroe shook his head and taped the bandage in place. “Those are not just vicious, they’re born killers. I mean, blutbaden are bad when we get into the right mood, and we’re known to kill our own blood if that mood is downright nasty, but mauvais dentes? They are rare and born killing machines! They are hired to take out guys like… well, you. Grimms are high on their list. I know of that one story my grandpa told me about a mauvais dentes taking out a whole village. No one survived. It was a blood bath in the very sense of the word. Was over in a minute. They play, they hunt, they let you think you escaped, just to get you after all.”

He shuddered a little.

Nick wished the painkiller would work. His head hurt, his ribs hurt, his brain was a mess of pain as well, and the ice bag in his hand was making his fingers freeze. 

"There. Almost as good as new," Monroe announced.

He gave his friend a half-hearted glare. "I know what new feels like. This isn't it." He applied the ice pack to his throbbing head.

“You could be dead, so maybe-not-new is a better physical state for a Grimm.”

Nick pulled his shirt back on, moving slowly as not to aggravate his hurt ribs. According to Monroe they weren’t broken, but the bruises were bad enough and the blutbad suspected at least one cracked one.

“So I guess he was after the Grimm then, not me.”

“You are that Grimm, Nick,” Monroe pointed out.

Nick grimaced. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know, and yes, I think he was after the Grimm. They are killers for hire, so someone sent him. It’s not like they go out of their way to work for free. You run onto a mauvais dentes, he won’t attack you unless there’s a price on your head.”

“Who sent him?”

“You’re asking me? Nick, there’s a whole family tree out there who would love to see you dead. Royal family,” Monroe added ominously.

“Huh.”

Nick wondered if they Families were stupid enough to send an assassin into a protected city after a regnant’s mate. The answer might be a big, fat ‘yes, they are’ if Monroe’s suspicion was correct. Sean Renard had grown very powerful with a Grimm allied to him, a Grimm who was also his mate. They had made attempts already, but again?

He sighed.

“Thanks for helping me out,” he said, accepting a mug of herbal tea.

“Hey, as they say: friends help friends move. Best friends help move bodies.”

Nick smiled, sipping at the tea. It was good and more than likely wholly organic and fair trade. 

“You need to tell Renard,” the blutbad added.

“I will. Haven’t seen a lot of him lately. There was a string of bad cases. Seeing that I was the target of a mauvais dentes, some of that stuff might even be related to him. We had a couple of dock workers found dead in a shipping container. Their bodies were mutilated and torn.”

Monroe shrugged. “Sounds suspiciously like one of them.”

“The ship came from Rotterdam.”

“Europe.” Another nod. “Family stuff. Geez, they really are unhappy about Renard.”

“And me.”

“They’re always unhappy about Grimms, man. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“You’re a thorn in their sides, but to go after you when you are mated to a Guardian? Guts. Someone’s pissed.”

“Someone’s going to throw a fit if someone hears about this,” Nick sighed.

Sean would be far from happy. He would actually blow more than one fuse and maybe – most likely – do something stupid. 

Nick would have to make sure that retaliation wouldn’t result in an all-out war.

All in a day’s work.

* * *

Nick swung by the trailer and searched through Marie’s books for anything on the mauvais dentes. His ribs protested sitting down, but standing upright all the time wasn’t fun either. He finally found a good position to go over the books.

What he found wasn’t pleasant, but it confirmed Monroe’s suspicions. Someone had sent this vicious predator after him. Someone based in Europe. Mauvais dentes were mostly seen in the Old World, as an ancestor had written down. 

Well.

So much for the families keeping their fingers out of Portland’s affairs.

Nick looked at the hand-drawn image of the black-and-white striped creature with the inch-long teeth and the blood dripping from them. 

Yeah.

So much for that.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

He ran into Zoe Flannigan when he drove up the street to his house. The maushertz was looking more than ready to give birth, but according to Gary and her it was still a week more to go. She was accompanied by another woman about her own age. She waved cheerfully at him. Nick waved back and then backed into his driveway and got out. 

Zoe, not very fast but still the same determined woman he had gotten to know, came across the street, the other woman in tow. She was dressed for the season, a scarf wrapped around her neck that depicted fall foliage, and a hat on her curls that still threatened to spill everywhere.

“Hey,” she greeted their resident Grimm.

“Hey, Zoe. How are you?”

Zoe positively glowed. “Still the same whale as yesterday. I feel ready to give birth to triplets!”

Nick chuckled. “You really sure it’s just one?”

“As sure as an ultrasound can be.”

The other woman hung back a little, her eyes huge and filled with wariness. Nick gave her a brilliant smile.

“Hi. I’m Nick.”

Zoe looked at her friend, then rolled her eyes. “Gabbi! He’s not going to hurt you!”

“He’s a Grimm,” the other woman whispered, her features shifting into a maushertz and she almost whimpered.

Zoe frowned. “I told you about Nick! He’s a good guy. He’s our Grimm.”

Nick kept calm, smiling disarmingly, knowing that the boyish charm was suffering a bit from the pain medication and the bruises. Still, he tried to set the maushertz at ease.

“Nick, that’s my sister-in-law Gabriella. Gabbi, stop being an idiot!”

Gabriella tried a smile, but the fear was still there. Nick just held back, trying not to scare her.

“What happened to you?” Zoe asked, sharp eyes narrowing on his visible bruising.

“Keeping our city safe,” he answered.

“You get beat up as a cop as well?” She shook her head. “This looks more like… oh! Oh, now I get it!” She chuckled. “Work never stops for a Grimm.”

“You got it.”

Resting a hand on her belly, Zoe studied him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. A night of sleep and I’ll be good as new. Say, how’s Gary?”

Zoe sighed and shook her head, accepting the change of topic. “Hoarding. Getting worse and worse. He’s really stressed out. Mom said it was the same with my dad. At least when my brother Nathan came. With me it was better. He knew what was coming.”

“Isn’t hoarding in your blood?”

She shrugged. “In men, yeah. They’re really bad. I get urges of nest building, but that’s hormones and motherhood and all. Gary’s just… falling back into instinct and stress-related reactions.”

“He’ll be a good father.”

She beamed at him. “Of course he will.”

Nick watched her go, smiling at Gabbi, who gave him a tentative nod and then turned to her sister-in-law to talk insistently to her. Nick knew it was about him.

Oh well.

Walking into his own home he felt the pain flare from the multiple bruises and he really looked forward to a hot shower and then some downtime.

His brain still worked on where the mauvais dentes had come from, why he had been after Nick -- aside from the Grimm thing – and if this had anything to do with his mate. A large part was simply glad to be home and have that shower.

That part won.

* * *

He didn’t see his mate that evening and when he called Sean’s cell, there was no answer. It wasn’t unusual for Renard to ignore the call or have the cell off or silenced. Nick didn’t really want to know who he was talking to that moment or where he was, since it always involved politics. Renard honored his word and told the Grimm what was going on later, or warned him about something happening right now that might have repercussions for him. 

So Nick didn‘t worry.

It wasn’t until he got into work the next morning and Hank shot him a quizzical look that he started to worry.

“What?” Nick asked, putting down his coffee and sandwich.

His face looked rather good again. Nothing too obvious. His ribs were no longer hurting so badly and he put that down to his better endurance and a higher tolerance in pain. It was something he had noticed increasingly in the past months, ever since he and Renard had completed their psychic bond. Maybe it was a regnant thing, maybe it was a Grimm thing, but whatever it was, it helped. He might not have his mate’s healing capabilities, but he was good to go out into the public and pretend he hadn’t just gone a few rounds against some vicious predator sent out to kill him.

“What’s up with the captain?” Hank wanted to know.

Nick’s confused expression must have tipped his partner off that Nick had no clue what he was talking about.

“Chief of Police sent a note that Captain Renard has taken personal time because of a family issue. We’ll get a temp for the time being.”

Nick gaped. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” Nick looked around, but they were currently almost alone. “We didn’t talk for the past few days. Cases and stuff. The murdered dock workers took up a lot of time and I didn’t see him…” He exhaled sharply. 

“So you have no idea?”

“None at all.”

Hank frowned. Nick glanced at his cell, but there was no text message or unanswered phone call.

“Maybe it is family?” Hank hazarded a guess.

“He’s got an older sister in England. We talk sometimes. I think she would have called, or her husband, if something had happened on that end. He also got an older brother in South America. A charming asshole of a guy. Met him once. Wouldn’t want to have that honor again.” Nick grimaced. “If something happened to him I’m not sure he would simply up and leave.”

“Not a real family matter then but something else?”

“Maybe.”

“Should I worry?”

Nick smiled wanly. “I don’t even know if I should worry, Hank, and I know a whole lot more about what he does in his spare time.”

“Captain’s got spare time?” Griffin joked.

Nick chuckled. “Hard to believe, I know.”

“So we do what we do best and solve cases?”

“Looks like it.”

*

Nick did something else, too. He called Mireille Luce Renard. He didn’t get her personally. Her cell went to voice. That wasn’t unusual since Mireille was a regnant in her own right and had a much larger Protectorate to take care of. London and the surrounding area was a bustling city and like Portland a sought-after spot for wesen to live. 

He tried Andrew’s, her husband’s phone, and the same happened. Nick sent an email, asking her to get back to him when she could, either by mail or phone. 

He didn’t call Maurice. The one and only time they met had been enough and if the family emergency involved the other male Renard sibling, Sean would take care of it.

What he did, though, was look into any flights out of Portland that might have a Sean Renard on them.

There wasn’t a single booking within the last twenty-four or forty-eight hours.

Nick stared at the screen, frowning, wondering what was going on.

* * *

Monroe had his own thoughts about it, but none helped.

“Regnant business,” had been the first. 

Nick knew that if his mate was busy handling some kind of political situation he wouldn’t have claimed a family emergency and disappeared. Not without telling the Grimm about it. It was their deal.

He winced as Rosalee applied some of the concoction she promised would help with the bruising. The ribs weren’t broken, according to her expert opinion, and since Nick had slept on them more or less well, he agreed. But the bruises were by now rather… interesting. 

“I know it’s an outrageous idea,” Rosalee piped up as she bandaged him again, “but what if someone took him?”

Nick stared at her. It was an outrageous idea. Regnants were insanely powerful as wesen. No one would dare attack one when in their right mind. No one would even think about planning to kidnap a Guardian out of his own city. 

“Only if that same someone called the Chief of Police, faked his voice and had him say that he was taking care of a family matter,” Monroe argued. 

She frowned, then nodded at him that she was done. “It was an idea.”

Nick slipped his shirt back on, biting back on another wince. “It’s a valid idea, actually.”

“You can’t think someone, even the Families, would do that, Nick!” Monroe exclaimed.

“Why not? They sent a mauvais dentes after me just when the Guardian I’m psychically linked to has disappeared out of the city.”

“If he left the city…”

“He has,” Nick murmured.

It was a weird feeling, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Sean wasn’t anywhere close by. He had left and gone wherever. It was this slightly hollow sensation deep inside him, something that was fleeting, like an afterimage, but he had grasped the meaning.

Renard was gone from Portland.

“Well, now what?” Rosalee asked.

Nick’s lips were a thin line. “I’m not sure, actually, but with Sean gone, I think I need to step up a little. I’m his mate, right? And Portland’s Grimm.”

“You’re also someone who has just been attacked by someone sent after you, just when the Guardian of this city has disappeared,” Monroe reminded him. “Might be a connection. And if there is, it won’t be the last time, Nick.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Monroe raised his hands in a warding-off gesture. “No doubt about it. I’m just saying, man. Be careful. I guess we should tell the others, too.”

Nick frowned. “The others?”

“Frank and Barry, for example,” the blutbad elaborated. “And anyone living on your street. Zoe’s swinging a mean bat, but she’s almost ready to give birth. I really don’t want a pregnant maushertz who thinks she’s a lion at heart going after anyone. And the eisbiber. One of them is always there.”

“You want to call a meeting?” Nick blurted.

Rosalee nodded. “An excellent idea.” She shot Nick a silencing look. “We’re all connected to you one way or the other, Nick. With the Guardian gone without a word, probably lured away, you’re a target and we as your friends will help you.”

“It’s not your job!” he protested.

“As your friends,” she repeated.

He slumped a little. Nick knew it was next to impossible to get Rosalee to reconsider and keep out of this. He also knew that others would come to his aid, whether he wanted it or not.

“Okay, do what you have to,” he finally muttered.

“Oh, we will. Please take good care of yourself.”

He always did.

* * *

Nick walked into the apartment of Sean Renard, closing the door almost noiselessly behind him. He had a key, of course, and the doorman to the expensive complex knew he was allowed inside.

The place was immaculately clean as usual. Sean employed help that was rarely if ever seen and Nick had only once run into the silent woman, who had nodded at him and quickly finished her chores for the day. 

Now there was no one inside.

Cast in just the light from outside, the condo looked more like a showroom. Unlived in, everything so orderly and exclusive and not like Nick would like his own place to be. He understood the reason for it, the armor Sean wore even in the place he lived in, the way he presented himself to outsiders – the few who came into this place – and it explained why Renard spent most of their time together in Nick’s house.

Nick walked through the living room into the open kitchen, looking for nothing, eyes scanning over everything. 

Squeaky clean kitchen, polished countertop, the electronics in the kitchen worth more than Nick made in a year. The fridge was almost empty, just a few bottles of bear and water. The freezer held frozen dinners and leftovers from takeout or delivery.

He entered the bedroom. The bed was made. You could bounce a coin off the dark sheets. The closet held a lot of crisp, expensive suits, as well as more leisurely clothes. There were some of Nick’s as well, dry-cleaned and hanging next to Sean’s. He smiled at the sight. 

Nick checked the bathroom, then the storage space, then simply went back into the living room and stood there, listening to… nothing. He had a feeling that Sean had left him a message. Something about where he was. He severely doubted that his mate had been taken. For one, there was the psychic bond that, while not telepathic, connected them in a way that sometimes things… leaked, for lack of a better word. He had found that Sean could pick up on some forcefully thought words, though not as words as such. He could make sense of them. Just like Nick had found that the Guardian could do the same when it came to Nick.

Nothing had come across, no flash of panic or anger or pain. 

So whatever had made Sean leave, it hadn’t been abrupt or violent.

Which left: planned.

Nick turned slowly, like trying get a ping of an unheard signal, and he finally walked into the kitchen and to the fridge. A shopping list with groceries and a few reminders was pinned to the front, and he took it off. It was a folded piece of paper and when he opened it up, it contained a letter.

 

_Something I can’t ignore has come up. Until my return, you will have to deal with the Protectorate alone._

 

Nick stared at the letter. 

What?!

 

_This might be a ruse to make me leave Portland. We will see. Be careful, Nick._

 

_Something has already happened!_ Nick thought darkly. _A mauvais dentes tried to rip my throat out!_

Damnit!

And Sean had more or less left him in charge.

In charge of what? Portland? He wasn’t the mayor or Chief of Police! He was a detective. He was a Grimm. He was… not Sean Renard and really neither wanted to be nor had ever aspired to be.

What was he supposed to do? He was a Grimm, not a Guardian. They worked as a team. Sean dealt with the political side, Nick did his own thing in his own way, getting a heads-up or some shadowy help from his mate of he needed it. What did Sean mean, he had to deal with the Protectorate? It wasn’t like Renard sat on a throne and Nick would simply have to keep the seat warm!

He folded the paper and stuffed it into a pocket, then quickly left the apartment.

He needed some help in form of his own, personal lawyer.

 

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

The house sat on two hundred acres of land that had been in the family for generations. It backed onto the national forest, which meant five hundred square miles of nothing but untouched woodland behind the privately owned land. It was a massive stretch of privacy and the perfect place for a family of jagerbars to live. 

It was a remote place; peaceful and quiet and with the nearest neighbors several miles down the road.

And it belonged to a man Nick had met when working a case.

Frank Rabe listened to his explanations, asked a few questions, then frowned a little. Nick had come to his private residence, not the office. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that a Grimm was asking a jagerbar lawyer for help. Or even knew Frank.

Then again, whoever was going for Nick probably knew a lot more than the Grimm was comfortable with. His alliances weren’t secret and Frank had told him before he wouldn’t shy away from openly standing by his side.

The large mansion was silent this autumn afternoon. The light that came in through the multitude of large windows was muted by the tall trees surrounding the sprawling home and the warm earthen tones that dominated the interior design had Nick relax. 

They were alone. Barry was out and about with friends, as Frank had explained. New friends. Friends that kept him out of trouble. 

“For Renard to leave this city, the reason had to be good. Since he thinks it might be a ruse, maybe he’s trying to draw out whoever is behind it.”

“And leaving me in charge. Of what? He’s not a king! This isn’t a kingdom!” Nick got up and paced away. “Yes, he’s in charge and yes, he’s a Guardian, but there’s no sword to hand over, no key to a lock, nothing of the like! He doesn’t hold receptions, there is no army to command! What am I supposed to do, Frank?”

Frank smiled a little. “What you normally do, Nick. It’s all he wants. You’re the Grimm of his territory, of this Protectorate. You deal with the bad element as you have before.”

‘You have a responsibility’ his aunt had once told him.

Yeah. He knew that. He just hadn’t thought it involved replacing the Guardian of Portland.

“And not follow him.”

“Exactly. If you and him left Portland, things might go south quite quickly. Renard is a powerful individual, as are you. You’re each respected in your own, unique way. The respect given to him comes from who and what he is. You have been given respect because of what you do and what you haven’t done in the past. You have allies.”

Like Frank. Like Monroe. Like so many other wesen rarely anyone would think of as allies.  
“So I do what I do, ignore that my mate might be in trouble, and go about my work like nothing has changed?”

“Yes.”

“You know I can’t do that!”

Frank smiled. “As does your mate. But you might be busy with whatever is coming this way now that whoever sent the mauvais dentes believes you’re an easy target.”

Nick groaned and sat down again. “Another assassin?”

“Or two.”

“Thank you for that, Frank,” he muttered darkly.

“You know you can count on us to help you, Nick.”

“I’m not putting anyone in danger because of this,” he replied firmly.

The jagerbar shook his head. “I agree that Renard might not have an army or a kingdom, but he has you and you have allies. We are not an army, but we stand with you, Nick. You can’t stop it, Grimm. Just accept it.”

And hate it, Nick added silently in his head. He hated having all those wesen ready to help him, endangering their lives, their families, their unborn children. 

Frank got up, went to the kitchen fridge, took out two beers, and Nick was grateful for the offer. He nodded his thanks as he took the bottle.

“Something is going on,” the jagerbar said when they both had taken their first swallows. “Something that had Renard leave Portland to draw it out.”

“Making me a target.”

Frank smiled a little. “Grimms are targets wherever they go, Nick.”

“Yeah, I know. A little warning would have been nice, though.”

“Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe it was all he had time for.” He nodded at the letter. “Maybe he didn’t know what exactly was coming.”

And Mireille still hadn’t called, so that spoke volumes, too.

“Maybe,” Nick murmured and rose. “Thanks for your time, Frank. Appreciated.”

They shook hands and the jagerbar smiled. “Anytime.”

* * *

When Nick walked into the prestigious lawfirm of Berman, Rauthbert & Associates he didn’t have to announce himself. It was as if a bell had been rung because the moment he walked inside, a woman in a crisp business outfit came up to meet him. Her dark hair was piled on her head. 

“Detective Burkhardt,” she said formally, though her green eyes spoke of even more formality.

Her name was Tempe Degen, a hexenbiest and one of the three hexenbiester working for the firm. She and another woman by the name of Lillian Tourelle had replaced the two dead hexenbiester that had been Adalind’s sisters and who had been killed by mellifers so long ago. Nick had met her several times before, mostly when she had reported to Sean, and now she looked at him like the Grimm was the new Guardian of Portland.

Nick pushed that thought aside.

He was nothing of the like, not even a stand-in.

“I need to talk to Adalind,” he said without preamble. 

She hadn’t returned his calls and she hadn’t been home, so work had been his next best guess.  
Tempe glanced at a closed door, a fine frown on her naturally pale and smooth features. She was hardly wearing any make-up and still she looked very attractive. 

Nick just walked past her and into the office, startling the blond hexenbiest. Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed, and her whole demeanor was suddenly tenser.

“Why are you here?”

“We need to talk.”

She appeared downright frazzled.

“Where is Renard?” Nick demanded and it if came out sharper than normal, sue him. He had just been handed news that were pretty hard to digest.

“You’re asking me?” she snapped back, reacting to his mood so easily it was more telling than the blaze in her eyes. Adalind was normally rather cool and unflappable. “He’s your mate, Grimm!”

“And that makes me attached to him at the hip?” Nick snarled. “I’m not his keeper!”

“Neither am I!” Adalind visibly pulled herself together and shook her head. “I apologize,” she finally said. “It’s been a bad few days.”

Nick fought down his irritation and let his usual calm manner take over. “Tell me about it. What’s going on, Adalind?”

Another headshake. Adalind collected herself, her posture still rather tense and straight.

“I don’t know, Nick. I really don’t know. The Guardian has been tense lately and he asked us to gather a lot of information on several topics that seem to have no connection. Then he began to research into the Families and that frightened me, to tell the truth. Regnants, as a rule, never connected well with any of the Royals. The Families treat them like the bastard sons and daughters, not of their blood but powerful, and the regnants kept out of Royal affairs. It was a shaky kind of truce, but it worked. Then you came along.”

Nick snorted. “Right.”

“Marie Kessler interfered at first when she made the contract with Renard. Then it turns out you two are psychically bonded. It didn’t just raise eyebrows, Nick, it blew them apart. That you then went ahead and became his partner… They just about had a collective coronary.”

He smirked. “Too bad they didn’t.”

She mirrored the smirk, eyes sparking in a very knowing and dangerous way. “Yes, too bad. Lately there has been an increase in incidents, all small enough to be ignored…”

“Unless you call a mauvais dentes a small incident.”

Adalind’s eyes widened almost comically. “A mauvais dentes? Here?”

“And gone.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. “He’s dead?” she finally asked breathlessly.

“Yes. And buried.”

She sat down heavily. “Mauvais dentes are killers used by Royals.”

“I figured.”

“When?”

“The night before yesterday. I suspect Sean was already out of the city by then.”

Leaving Nick to pick up the pieces and go on as if nothing had happened, telling him in writing that he was in charge. Damn the man! Nick felt the dark desire to strangle his mate.

“I suppose,” she said slowly. “They wouldn’t dare…” Adalind stopped, shaking her head, clearly enraged by the audacity. “They had been warned.”

And something in her voice, her whole demeanor, spoke of a hexenbiest out for blood since their warnings had been ignored. Nick knew she could take such things personally and Adalind was not to be underestimated. She served royalty, but not this royalty, and her loyalty to Renard was unquestionable. The Grimm wasn’t sure he could stop either of them from going after anyone associated with the Families and still on Portland. He was sure he wanted to either.

“Do you still have what Sean asked of you? All the things you gathered information on?”

Adalind nodded.

“I want it.”

There was no argument from her. “You’ll get it as soon as I have all files in one.”

“Thanks.” Nick turned to go, then stopped at the door. “If you think of anything else, whatever it is, which might tell me where he went off to, let me know.”

She nodded again. “I will. Be careful, Nick. If they sent a mauvais dentes, who knows what else might come next?”

Nick smiled humorlessly. “Something else, for sure. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Do you require us?”

“No. You do what you always do. Let me deal with the rest.”

“We have dealt with protection before,” she reminded him levelly.

“And I’ll call on you if I need help. Right now, no. You do your thing. Should you run across a Family member, well, I believe in your own judgment of the situation.”

Adalind’s eyes sharpened a little, then she smiled. Even, white teeth that looked more predatory than fangs would have. She never dropped her façade, but in a way Nick was looking at the wesen underneath and it was purring with happiness at his indirect order.

Nick left, thinking about what she had told him, about Sean’s research, the possibility of a Family problem. He would wait for what Adalind could give him. He would work with that for now.

He walked past Tempe, who watched him silently, respectfully, but still with a more pronounced aura of a predator. Nick gave her a quick smile. She smiled back, inclining her head as if to assure him that she, too, understood what needed to be done if matters came up.

The Grimm wove through the pedestrians and toward his car. He finally pulled away from the curb and into the traffic, back to the precinct.

* * *

Hank had watched him like a hawk ever since Nick had come to work and while they were running down clues on their latest case, Griffin wasn’t about dropping big hints.

Nick finally gave up as they had a quick lunch – hot dogs and a bag of chips and a very sticky but unholy good donut – in the park. He told Hank about his encounter with the mauvais dentes, that he still had no idea where Renard had gone off to, that he had asked around, and that he would get a few files on what Sean had been looking at just before he had disappeared.

“Need help?” Hank simply offered.

“Not sure what I’m looking for.”

“Then a second pair of eyes won’t hurt.”

Nick smiled. “Probably not. I’ll let you know when I get the files.”

And that was that. Hank accepted the answer and they went back to their case after lunch.

 

It was after lunch that their temporary supervisor was introduced, Captain Rick Gervais, who would run the precinct in the absence of Renard. Nick and Hank simply took notice, then went back to their cases. Gervais took up residence in Renard’s office and that was that.

“Know him?” Hank asked when they were on the street again.

“Only by name. More of administrator than a hands-on guy.”

Hank nodded. “Got bumped up to captain pretty fast, looking at more than that in the next few years because of his accomplishments in the paper-pusher department.”

Nick chuckled. “Can’t fault him for that.”

“Nah. Better to have guys like Renard on the front line than the Gervaises of the world. He’d start a ‘clean your desk’ week if he could, just to have the cleanest precinct in the whole of Portland.”

Nick laughed and shook his head. “C’mon. Let’s get to work.”

Work took his mind off other matters. Like where the hell Sean had gone off to.

 

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

It hadn’t been easy. It had taken almost a whole day of constantly talking on the phone or personally paying visits.

Rosalee had taken it into her own hands to call the wesen allied with Nick together for a meeting. She had argued with Monroe that it was necessary, to have everyone informed of the happenings, and finally the blutbad had caved. He had sought out those Rosalee had never met or didn’t know where they lived, and most of them actually agreed to come to the meeting.

For the first time since the housewarming after Nick had moved, the many different types and kinds of wesen met again. Not at Nick’s place, not at Monroe’s or Rosalee’s, not even at Frank’s. It had been agreed upon to choose a neutral ground, one where the predators and the prey were on equal footing.

It had turned out to be the back room of a wesen bar run by a lausenschlange and a hare. The unlikely pair of owners had raised eyebrows in the wesen community of Portland, but they also served the best bar food, had great beer on tap, and they had made it clear that their place was neutral ground. Whatever happened outside, the Mixed Breed was neutral territory.

And now it was a gathering place for Nick’s friends and allies.

Some looked a bit wary of the more predatory or aggressive, but tension levels were low. Frank was there, taking the lead with Monroe as backup and Rosalee calmly handing out tea and cookies. Zoe, in her final stages of pregnancy and looking like she was about to burst, walked among the group, confident and not much of a typical maushertz, while her husband Gary trailed behind, fretting and probably close to a hoarding spell again. Not only was his wife in a condition he would rather see her safely at home, now they were also in the presence of a lausenschlange, their mortal enemy.

Not that Victoria Snyder had any intention of eating either of them. She had smiled and inquired about Zoe’s health, had made small-talk, even while Gary had been close to having a nervous breakdown over that.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” Frank greeted them. “When Monroe and Rosalee asked you here, you were told it is because of a friend and ally of ours.”

They nodded. He had their full attention.

“Has something happened to Nick?” Bud asked, worry flitting over his features.

“No. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Grimm anyway. What has happened is that Sean Renard, Nick’s bonded and this city’s Guardian, has left Portland on a personal matter. Nick is currently in charge, so to speak, and it appears that someone is very much intent on killing him while Renard is away.”

There was soft murmuring. Bud was staring at the jagerbar, mouth working, then he squared his shoulders, straightening a little more.

Victoria frowned. “For a regnant to leave his Protectorate, the reasons must be dire.”

“It might be a ruse,” Monroe spoke up. “To get him to leave, to have Nick vulnerable and out in the open, so to speak.”

Roddy snorted. Monroe had actually been surprised that the young reinigen had come. He hadn’t been very positive about going to their meeting, but Monroe suspected it was more or less Drew’s doing. The klaustreich had known Nick a lot less, but after what the Grimm had done for Roddy, and Drew, he had seen it as their way of paying him back a little.   
It was also Drew who now elbowed Roddy.

“What?” the reinigen demanded. “A Grimm isn’t really vulnerable. They kick ass.”

Victoria smiled briskly. “And still he is only human. He can be killed.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Bud said fiercely, still looking determined and standing as tall as his roundish figure let him appear.

“This is a game being played by others,” Frank interrupted them. “And Renard is playing along. He simply had no time to warn his mate and Nick has already dealt with a mauvais dentes.”

Wide eyes stared at him.

“The mauvais dentes isn’t a danger any more,” Frank said into the whispered conversations. “But we believe he won’t be the last. We called you here to ask for you to keep your eyes and ears open, tell me or Monroe or Rosalee if anyone new comes to Portland, if you hear anything at all. Or tell Nick.”

“Don’t confront the newcomer or whoever you suspect isn’t who they tell you,” Rosalee added. 

“Another mauvais dentes?” Drew, Roddy’s boyfriend, a klaustreich, wanted to know.

“We don’t know. It might be anyone.”

“This is the Royal Families, right?” Bud spoke up again. “They’ve been coming for Nick ever since the psychic link?”

“I believe this is more than just about Nick. It’s about how strong Renard has gotten because of his connection to the Grimm.”

Regnants mated with Grimms are balanced and powerful,” Victoria spoke up, nodding. “It’s a rare pairing, almost unheard of nowadays. The Grimm has to fit the regnant and the mating can’t be forced. So because he found his balance, Renard has become even more of a thorn in their sides.”

“And Nick’s not everyone’s bogeyman,” Zoe added calmly. “He’s the old kind of Grimm. The new old. He’s not just killing wesen. He tries to arbitrate and he does it well. We all trust him, right?”

A collective nod was the answer.

“He helped us and we help him. It’s what gives Renard even more power, which makes Portland a safe Protectorate.”

“Nick’s a good guy,” Bud said with conviction. “I won’t let anyone kill him if I can help it.”

More agreement.

“They want Renard gone. And with him Nick. Wherever they lured him,” Monroe told the assembled allies, “he followed that lure because he either knew they want him there or because it was a good enough reason for a regnant to leave his city. Whatever reason, Nick’s here and he’s my best friend. I’ve stood by his side before, even when the reapers made an example of me. I told him I won’t leave him out to dry.”

“No one has to fight,” Rosalee repeated. 

Bruce, the hare living on Nick’s street, same as Zoe and Gary, looked grim but determined. “We do what we’ve done so far already: keep an eye on things,” he agreed. “He protects us. We can pay him back by keeping vigil.”

The others nodded.

“Now you know that there might be something to look out for,” Frank added. “You know where to reach me or Monroe. Call. Whatever time, day or night. And no heroics,” he added, giving Zoe a warning look.

The maushertz huffed, but her spirit was right there.

Even though the official part of the meeting was called to an end with that, most of the wesen lingered, talking with the others, talking with Monroe or Frank, and Bud was one of the last leave, looking determined and grim.

“Nothing will happen to Nick,” he said firmly. “He’s done so much for us, it’s something we can do for him now. We’re his allies, right?”

“Right,” Monroe agreed. “Just tell your lodge that no one is a warrior. We keep watch. We warn others. That’s it. Leave the fighting to the Grimm.”

“I’ve a got a wife and kids,” Bud answered. “They need me. I know when to butt out, so to speak.” He flashed a quick grin. “But I can also tell you that even the most timid of us can be fighter for the right reason. If they come after one of us, we’ve been warned.”

And then he was gone too.

Frank looked thoughtful, nursing a cup of Rosalee’s tea. 

“That went well,” the fuchsbau said as she cleaned up.

“Let’s hope no one is trying any false heroics.”

“They won’t.”

The jagerbar smiled a little. “Bud is very loyal to Nick, as is Zoe. Roddy would probably get into a fight as well, maybe even Drew. Especially with Roddy at his side.”

“We agreed everyone needed a fair warning,” Monroe said. “That’s what happened here tonight. We have Nick’s back as usual. If something comes up and he gets into anything, we’ll help him out the way we always do.”

Rosalee nodded. That they would.

* * *

Adalind called him twenty-four hours after their meeting, telling the Grimm she had what Renard had asked of her and her sisters. She delivered it to Nick’s house that evening, looking pale but composed.

“I don’t know what he wanted with this,” she said as she gave him the USB stick. “I looked at the data, but it’s meaningless.”

And she had been working with Renard a lot longer than Nick had been in on the whole political hazmat.

“He wanted that information. He specifically asked for it, right?”

She nodded.

“Then it means something.”

“Portland is a Protectorate,” the hexenbiest said, voice not as controlled as she wanted to. “It means it’s safe. Safer than other cities in comparison, that is. The criminal element won’t move in and the wesen here have a measure of safety from the more… violent.”

Nick cocked his head. “You think a Grimm alone won’t keep that bad element away?”

“The bad element, yes. The Royals? Not at all.”

Nick found it interesting that Adalind saw the Families as bad elements. Like a new form of the mob, maybe. Ready to move into weakened structures of old rulers and take over. Sean had told him that they wanted to take over, restore themselves to their former power of the old days. But the old days were over. And the Old World wasn’t any more.

“They would never dare usurp a regnant’s territory,” Adalind added, anger swinging in her voice, “but this one has left.”

“He isn’t dead,” Nick snapped.

She reeled back as if it had been a physical slap. “I never said so!” Adalind hissed back and her features shifted briefly, but not completely. She composed herself again, her breathing a little more ragged. “I never implied it either. But the longer he is gone, the more matters might spin out of control.”

Out of her control, too. She was associated with Renard, was his ally and loyal hexenbiest. She and her sisters. She was keeping the hounds at bay as well. Nick had always wondered if she might not shift her loyalties should she feel Sean was weakening. Now he realized how wrong that thought had been. She was firmly on his side and she was fighting her own battles.

“I’m still here,” Nick said darkly. “And I will fight back.”

She nodded. “As will those loyal to the Guardian and his mate.”

It was almost an oath.

Nick looked at the USB stick in his hand. It might hold the answer as to why Sean had left, but it might just be more work that led nowhere. He didn’t know. Just like he never knew with leads in a police case.

“Thank you for this,” he said evenly and pocketed the USB stick.

Adalind left, visibly more disturbed that usual, and it gave Nick an idea what the situation was out there from a political point of view. Renard was the ruler, protector and force that kept Portland safe. With him gone, Nick had to step up and make sure no one saw his city as easy taking. He would make that statement as a Grimm if he had to, like against the mauvais dentes. He simply didn’t have the political connections Sean Renard had. But he knew how to do his job as a cop and as an arbitrator of wesen law.

* * *

Nick didn’t get to think much about what was going on on the Grimm side of life since the latest case had him and Hank go after a possible burglar who targeted upper middle-class homes where the owners were away for the night, mostly at a prolonged dinner, a show or a party with friends. Always only the most expensive items went missing, but only the latest break-in left a dead body behind.

Hank shot Nick a quizzical look when they walked out of the crime scene with their notes and a lot of names who they had to run now. It was still early in the day, the sky slightly overcast and the wind already more than a little nippy. Nick had opted for a sweater underneath his leather jacket this morning and he knew he would add a scarf to it soon. Autumn was early this year and temperatures were dropping.

“Anything?” Hank asked.

“On this case? No clue.”

“You know what I mean.”

Nick quickly glanced around; there was no one there. “Not a word from Sean.”

“Weird, right?”

“Yeah.”

They got into their car and Hank started the engine, slowly pulling away. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Nick glanced at him. “Sure.”

“Renard’s a high-ranking wesen, right?”

Nick nodded.

“And he’s running Portland.”

“In a way.”

Hank grimaced. “I know, Protectorate. Not a kingdom. He’s guarding the city.”

“He is.”

“So why is he a police captain? Why hold a mundane, human job?”

The Grimm smiled. “What better way to be involved than to hold a job in the city you have to know? And we know this city better than most, Hank. We see all layers.”

“Yeah, but captain? No offense to the captain, but he could be commissioner or chief of police or something. He’d have a lot more power and freedom to run things.”

Nick knew it was the first impression of many who saw the police captain and knew he was also a regnant. But higher up never coincided with more power or freedom. It was a political maelstrom. It was a web of lies, corruption and deceit. It was a powerplay that interfered with his true purpose as a Guardian.

Hank listened to his explanations, nodding slowly. “Makes sense. And I know the captain’s got a lot of contacts higher up. He should be one of those rising stars, youngest commissioner ever and so on, but he isn’t.”

“Because being the captain of a police precinct keeps him so much closer to the true purpose of a Guardian.”

“And to you?” Hank added slyly.

Nick chuckled. “I guess it was a reason at first, too. Back before I knew what I was, what he was, what had happened between us. As long as he runs the precinct, we get cases that might involve wesen. We’ll be there when things Grimm happen.”

“Good to know. So, anything I need to watch out for with this unexplained disappearance?”

Nick smiled dimly. “Nothing but the usual: perps and lies.”

It got him an eye roll.

“No, Hank. Nothing more unusual than usual,” the Grimm added. “I’ve no idea. Really none at all. If anything pops up, I’ll let you know. Until then it’s business as usual.”

“Got the stuff the captain was working on?”

“Yes. I just haven’t been able to get to it. With that,” Nick gestured at the house, their crime scene, “and everything else that’s going on.”

“You think it’s connected?”

Nick frowned. It didn’t seem likely, at least not when it came to a direct connection. But if Sean’s absence meant certain wesen felt safer to come out and commit crimes…

“Let’s figure out who the perp is and I’ll tell you if he is wesen or not.”

“Deal,” Hank replied with a crooked grin. “And I’m free for the next few nights,” he offered. “You get me food and drink and I’ll work for free.”

Nick chuckled. “Deal.”

 

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

He got home that night to no new messages, though there was a cryptic email in his account from Andrew Luce, Mireille’s schwanensee husband. It was a number he didn’t know, but he called it anyway.

“Mireille disappeared,” Andrew told the stunned Grimm. 

“So did Sean.”

The schwanensee hissed softly. 

“When did Mireille disappear?” Nick asked.

“A week ago exactly. I didn’t think anything of it because there was a business meeting she was going to. She was there, I checked,” Andrew added. “And it was a successful one, the parties in question were satisfied, and no, I can’t tell you what it was about.”

Nick smiled humorlessly. “Would it have anything to do with the Families?”

“The Royals? No, not at all. This was about a local matter.”

“Okay. So she disappeared…?”

“I got a message that she had something else to take care of, that something had come up, not to worry, and then there was nothing.”

“And that’s normal?”

Andrew snorted. “You haven’t been mated for long with a regnant, I see. Yes, it is. Maybe Sean isn’t like that or maybe you haven’t been too deeply involved, but they get like that, Nick, let me tell you.”

“Oh, I’ve been involved,” the Grimm answered. “And it ended in a lot of ass-kicking and verbal hair-pulling, and we made a deal. I’m very much informed on what’s going on politically in Portland and all Grimm-related matters he has to deal with.”

“Hm, lucky you. I think the Grimm-regnant bond gives you that leverage. Schwanensee aren’t that devious.” A little humor swung in the older man’s voice.

Nick had no doubt that Andrew had leverage if he wanted to, but it was true that the bond differed from the one he had with Renard.

“So what changed your belief that it was all just normal regnant matter?”

“Your mate called. He asked if Mireille was there. I told him about the meeting. His reaction tipped me off, though he didn’t say much and simply hung up. Something’s going on.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Did you look into it?”

“Of course.” Indignation was clearly audible. “Mireille is my mate and I do worry!”

“I didn’t imply you wouldn’t. I just want to know if you heard anything.”

“Nothing.” Andrew was trying to compose himself again. “If this was about drawing Sean away from Portland, it worked, which is all the more strange. They would know that regnants aren’t close to their blood family as other wesen are. Even if he has talked to her more than before you became his mate, it’s not like he would simply leave his Protectorate to come to her aid. That would be my responsibility.”

“Maybe they don’t know all that much about regnants then.”

Andrew chuckled. “Maybe. And maybe they thought the recent closeness would make him do something stupid.”

Yes, the closeness. Nick’s involvement in the Renard family had brought along changes that had probably upset a few old instincts. Mireille had become a good friend, like an older sister, and through Nick, she and Sean had had more contact in recent months than in all their past years apart.

But was this fragile bond between the siblings enough to make Renard break through his wesen instinct and go after Mireille? And what had truly happened to the London Guardian?

“Maybe Sean is counting on their false ideas and is creating his own trap,” Nick mused, the thought suddenly striking him. He remembered the line in the letter Sean had left him, the one about all of this maybe being a ruse.

Andrew was silent, then, “Maybe. Whatever is truly going on, be careful, Nick.”

“I am.”

He hung up and looked at the USB stick. A lot of questions were racing around his head. Sean was behaving atypically for his wesen-kind, leaving his Protectorate. If he had left, it wouldn’t be to save his sister because the territorial instinct topped family blood. And if this was a trap set to draw out whoever he was trying to draw out, why not clue Nick in?

He pushed the stick into his laptop and waited for the machine to recognize the new drive. Then he started to sort through the files. 

 

An hour later Hank came over as promised, beer and chips in hand, raising his eyebrows at the piles of paper Nick’s printer had spat out.

“Whoa! I think I need more than that.” He dangled the chips.

“Pizza?”

“Make it the family sized one.”

Nick smiled and grabbed his phone to order just that.

 

It turned out to be a long, long night.

*

They had spent hours on the files, going over even the smallest detail, and both detectives had made a list of names to run down using police resources. Hank had piled ‘possibly relevant’ and ‘relevant’ into two stacks. Nick had boxed up the rest that seemed like a lot of senseless information with no names, no places mentioned and generally no idea what it was about.

“You getting any vibes off this?” Hank asked, yawning.

It was three in the morning and both men were exhausted.

“Nope. And I don’t get vibes, Hank. You watch too much TV.”

“On what time? I got no free time, man!”

Nick smiled and cleared away the pizza box and empty bottles. “I appreciate the help, though.”

“Hey, no sweat. I’ll got grab a few hours. You do the same. Later we’ll run the names and see what comes up. Might be relevant, might just be whatever else Renard does in his spare time.”

Nick chuckled and locked the door after him when he had left. His eyes fell on the box of irrelevant data. He finally took it and walked up the stairs to the bedroom.

* * *

They were getting nowhere on their B&E case. They had a suspect, they knew he had pulled it off, but there was no way any of them could prove it. Nick crumbled up a piece of fast food wrapping and tossed it into the bin closest to him. It was late already and he was running his head in, bumping into so many dead end alleys.

Between working their cases, Hank and Nick ran the names they had found, but none had any alarms ringing. There were no police records, not even a parking ticket. For three Hank didn’t even get a hit in the data base. He suspected he would have to go international for those names since they sounded European. 

He leaned back with a frustrated sigh. “Not much, huh?”

“Nothing at all.”

“You guys look like the sun rises only for you. Not,” Wu commented as he placed a folder onto Nick’s desk. “Dead ends?”

“Yeah. What do you have?”

“Trace from your breaking-and-entering-cum-dead-guy. Looks like there were several hits to other cases. Have fun. I will when I go on my well-deserved break now.”

And he was gone.

Nick smiled as he leafed through the report and saw what Wu had told them. “Looks like we have some more walking and talking to do.”

Hank rose and grabbed his jacket. “After the many dead ends here? Anything!”

Nick tossed him the keys to the car and they were on the road once more.

* * *

The only name that truly led him anywhere was a club. Under The New Moon was an institution in Portland, a Place To Be, to be hip, to be seen, to be cool, to maybe be discovered as a model or a dancer or whatever else.

Nick walked into the club before opening hours. He had flashed his badge and it had gotten him in. The suspicious look he had received from the guard at the door, as well as the briefly bared teeth from the lowen who walked with him to see the owner of the club, had him slightly on edge.

A band was up on the main stage, which was just one of six stages altogether in the establishment. Now, with the lights on and the mood somber and serious, the room looked cavernous. Everything was empty, the dance floor, the tables, the gallery, the private booths. Only the four people on stage were there, together with three as an audience. While the music wasn’t exactly Nick’s favorite style, it wasn’t bad.

Nick ignored them as he was accompanied to the main office high above the dance floor.

The moment the door closed, the sound was gone. As was the lowen.

“Nick Burkhardt.”

The voice was sultry, low, almost a purr, and it fit the woman sitting in the highback leather chair.

“Detective, Portland PD,” she added as she rose, her smile just as sultry.

Dressed in designer jeans that hugged her figure and a simple, elegant, black shirt, she didn’t look like the owner of this place, but Nick had looked up the club. Diane Merdez was the sole owner and she looked not a day over twenty-five. Since the Moon had been in Portland for over twenty years and had risen to a star among the club scene, she had to be older.

Good genes, he mused. Or good make-up. Plastic surgery only got you that far. She didn’t look like she had had any work done on her.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

Nick declined.

“What brings you to this place at such an early hour?” Diane asked as she poured herself something sparkly and probably expensive. Small flecks of most likely gold swam in the liquid.

“The name of your place came up in an investigation I’m currently running.”

“Oh? I hope not in a bad way.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You might be able to help me.”

She smiled, showing even, white teeth. “What investigation are you running, detective?”

“A missing persons case. I’d like you to look at some papers, tell me if you recognize names or places.” Nick took out the folded prints.

“Well, I’m always happy to assist the police.” She walked over with the grace of a cat and took the copies he had made.

A raven-wing eyebrow rose after two seconds of perusing and she looked at him, her face shifting from playfully flirty to something a lot more serious. Nick felt a prickle of alarm, something close to what he sometimes felt when a wesen was close-by but he didn’t see it.

“I see,” she said.

“Do you recognize the names?”

“Those names, detective, are not important.”

He frowned, feeling tension creep up his spine. Diane placed the glass of sparkly onto a glass table that was so immaculately polished, the glass seemed to hover in thin air.

“These were left for you by someone.”

Nick tried to see if there was a shift, if she showed anything, but Diane didn’t. She was perfectly calm, but his Grimm sense was shrilling. She was a wesen and a dangerous one at that.

“You and I both know who,” she added. “Only one name makes sense and that is Under The New Moon. You were led here, Grimm. To meet with me. For me to meet with you. It was his plan. Ingenius, I have to say. And devious.”

Nick’s eyes darted around, looking for hidden assailants, for more danger, but he knew the worst opponent would be this woman.

Diane Merdez smiled. “Don’t worry your pretty head, Grimm. I wouldn’t dare touch a single hair on it. Even if I could. My loyalties are with one, and one only. He holds me for life.”

“Who?” he demanded coldly, the Grimm now fully in control as Nick let himself become who he was, pushing the police officer aside.

His senses were on high alert, adrenaline flooding his veins, his muscles coiled. Diane was a wesen, he was sure of it. And she knew what she was talking about, not even hiding her knowledge of who and what he was.

“The Guardian, Grimm. I had to say it, right? Oh, he never told you?” Diane chuckled, but it wasn’t really that flirty either. “I am Renard’s weapon, love. I am his sworn sword. He left you my club’s name for you to find me.”

“Why?” he snapped, mind reeling.

“Because whatever had him leave Portland, he saw it necessary to introduce you to me, of course. He hasn’t so far, which tells me that whatever he expects is to come, you might need me.”

Nick stared at her, eyes narrowed, not really in the mood for games. “What do you know about his leaving?”

“Nothing, Grimm. Nothing at all. He isn’t the type to tell me about his plans. I serve him and with it, his bonded mate. Why he chose such a paper chase for you to come here, I don’t know. But now I know whatever had him leave is serious.”

She glanced at the pages, then put them on the table as well. Diane walked over to the glass panes of her office, showing her the whole of the Moon. Her fingers flexed, muscles played under the black shirt. Her stance shifted a little, as if she was getting ready to pounce, but she didn’t.

“You are in danger, Grimm. I told him so before. Your bond to the Guardian made you two so much stronger, so much more dangerous for the Families. They would do everything to cut you out of that equation, but it’s too late now. The Royals would never openly attack a Protectorate or killa regnant’s bonded mate, especially if the mate is a Grimm. Or shall I say, even if the mate is a Grimm?” She shot him a dark smile. “No, they use underhanded methods, sneak behind the lines, draw you out, make it look like a normal assassination.”

“Normal?” Nick echoed, feeling a little off kilter by her words.

Diane smiled coolly. “You are a Grimm. You are a target. Many wesen want to get their rite of passage on your blood. Those with at least a partially functioning brain think twice. Others just follow their nether instincts.” Another dark, foreboding smile.

“What happened to Renard?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you. I don’t know. I wish he had told me, but he didn’t. My kind are weapons, Grimm. That’s what you have to understand. Our lives are bound to those of our masters. We choose wisely and my choice of your mate was never wrong. I’ve been with him for all my life and I have grown out of the battles I fought in his name. Now he went into this alone. It tells me that he expects the worst to happen in his Protectorate, which is now under your control.”

“I don’t control anything!” he protested.

She smiled and lithely moved over to him. Her well-manicured hand took the glass of sparkly again and she sipped it carefully.

“You are Portland’s Grimm,” Diane simply stated.

“So people keep telling me.”

“Then listen to them, Nick Burkhardt. He gave me to you with that list. I’m known to you now.”

“And what are you?”

She laughed, soft, musical, entrancing – and dropped her façade so suddenly Nick stepped back automatically.

Black skin, yellow eyes, black feathers where there had been hair, but not really true feathers since they seemed to shift as he looked at them. Her hands were now taloned, her skin leathery, the beak-like protrusion that was her nose and mouth looking sharp and dangerous. 

“We are nachträuber, Grimm. We hunt, we kill, we are your sword,” she whispered, the feathers on her head rising and falling. “You either have us on your side or you might be our target. We live off your blood, we hear it speak to us, sing to us, and we follow the call of our baser nature.”

Nick swallowed hard.

“Point me in the right direction and you will see your enemy fall.”

And then the young, beautiful woman was back, looking unruffled and slightly amused.

“I’m not your bodyguard, but I will serve you. As I will discourage those who think the Protectorate is without protection now. Renard has a sneaky way of sending messages, love. Get used to it.”

Nick took the copies, feeling a lot calmer than he should after the demonstration. He believed her. Something in him told Nick that the woman spoke the truth. She could kill him, end it here and now. She could be the one wesen who was successful in taking out Portland’s Grimm. 

She didn’t. She hadn’t.

“Take care of yourself, Grimm. And should you require some fun and dance, come back and enjoy yourself. Bring a friend.” She smiled sweetly, the prior seriousness wiped away and replacement by flirtiness.

Nick left, walking through the main room once more where the band was done practicing. He passed by the guard, who watched him through narrowed eyes, then he was outside once more. It wasn’t even dark yet and hours before the club would open.

He inhaled the fresh air, trying to make sense of it all.

It wasn’t easy.

He would have to hit the books and see what he could find about the wesen Diane Merdez was. And when Sean was back he would try and find out just what exactly the deal was.

Nick’s expression became harder.

No, he would definitely get the truth about who and what Diane Merdez’s deal with Sean Renard was.

 

tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

Nick was just in the process of stowing away his gun and badge at home when someone knocked. He reholstered the gun and walked over to the door. 

He found Bud outside, on the porch, holding a large Tupperware bowl. And a basket. The eisbiber gave him a careful smile.

“Uh, I didn’t want to interrupt or anything…” he started.

“You’re not. I just got home.”

Apprehension flitted over the round features. “Oh. I’m sorry. If you’re busy…”

Nick smiled and held up a hand. “Bud, it’s okay. Come on in.”

The other man slipped inside, looking indecisive. His eyes scanned over the room, the handyman in him assessing whether or not their local Grimm needed any work done. 

When Nick closed the door, he held out the bowl.

“Uhm, the wife made too much and said I should bring it over to you. Seeing as you’re… Well, since your mate’s not here and you’re working and don’t have…” Bud broke off, aware that wherever this had been going, it had implied Nick had no idea how to feed himself. Or that Renard was the one cooking. 

Nick smiled again, the smile that calmed and charmed in one. He used it on reluctant witnesses, on scared witnesses, and on young children. It also worked on stressed-out wesen. Like Bud, who should know better than to fret. They had known each other way too long for the eisbiber to behave like that.

“Thanks. And tell your wife as well. I appreciate the thought.”

Nick didn’t believe for a minute that these were leftovers. Phoebe cooked large meals, yes, but they had three growing children, two of them teenage boys, and they were stomachs on legs. There were never any leftovers. So Phoebe had made this especially for him.

He felt warmed.

“It’s a casserole. Tuna. I didn’t know if you liked it. And here,” Bud held out the basket, “there’s soup. Chicken noodle. And some muffins and pie.”

Nick took the basket and found more than the items Bud had listed. There were two more full meals in there, neatly labeled. He smiled more.

“Wow. Thanks. I mean it. Really. You didn’t have to do that.”

Bud looked suddenly a lot more calm, with his errant delivered. “It’s what friends do. I know you have a lot on your mind and the wife really doesn’t mind. She actually made me come over.” He looked sheepish. “She’s good with words.”

Nick laughed. “I believe you.”

“And she said if you want to come over for dinner. Or lunch. Or whenever…?”

He nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

Bud beamed at him. 

“Tell Phoebe thanks, okay?”

“I will.”

And with that he was out the door again, bustling off to his car. Nick shook his head and carried the food into the kitchen. 

* * *

When their B&E case finally broke and gave them enough evidence for an arrest, Hank muttered that he just had it in his little toe that things would get messy.

He would be so right.

First of all, the suspect was only an accomplice.

Second, the girlfriend was the shooter and the one behind all the burglaries, right down to the next step of shooting who got in the way.

Third, there was running.

 

Nick was running down an alley after Sarah McInnis, who was a lot faster and a lot more agile than he had given her credit. She didn’t look like the sporty kind, but she was. Damn, she was! He had no idea if she was a wesen. She had neither acknowledged him as a Grimm, nor dropped her façade.

He kept on pounding after the fugitive. 

At least she wasn’t shooting at him. 

They were closing in on a parking lot when Sarah suddenly veered hard to the right, jumped over a low fence and ran along the sidewalk. Nick smothered a curse. He jumped the fence as well and followed. People were jumping out of the way as the red-head raced past them and from her heading, Nick suspected she was making for the small shopping center that was only a few blocks away. She would be able to lose them there. Too many people. 

She was just about to run across the street when Hank shot around a corner in their car and blocked her way, tires squealing. 

She didn’t even hesitate. She slid over the smooth hood and continued.

“What the hell…?” Hank exclaimed, eyes wide.

Sarah was weaving through the pedestrians, Nick still on her heals, and Hank had to watch out for traffic, when suddenly, their target slipped into an alley. Hank reversed, turned and headed down the street. 

Nick cursed as he discovered that Sarah was heading up the fire escape.

“I hate it,” he groaned.

He rolled onto the roof, gun ready, but Sarah was already running toward what looked like a narrow walkway that connected this building with the next. 

He closed the distance.

“Portland PD!” Nick yelled when he was close enough to where their suspect was trying to cross between the building.

“Give it up! You don’t have anywhere to run!”

She turned to look at him, halfway across the narrow, metal catwalk. Sweat was rolling down her forehead and her hair was in disarray. Her eyes held a feverish expression.

“You lost,” Nick said, stopping short of the three stairs leading to the bridge. “Police is everywhere. Even if you make it down the other side and out of the building, where do you want to go?”

“I have contacts,” she panted.

She turned, but stopped dead in her tracks. Hank was on the other roof, a gun in his hand, aiming at her. 

Sarah hesitated. She was caught on a metal cat walk between two buildings and on each roof stood someone to stop her. 

“I’m not going to jail! It was an accident!”

“Your partner and boyfriend says otherwise,” Hank replied. “He’s talking like there’s no tomorrow. And he blames you.”

“No! It wasn’t me!”

“Evidence suggests it was.”

“I’m not going to rot in jail!” she screamed, looking sweaty and undone. “I can’t! I can’t do it!”

“Then you shouldn’t have broken the law,” Nick told her.

And then it happened. There was a shift.

And Sarah let herself fall.

“No!” Hank exclaimed and rushed forward, leaning over the low wall around the roof. 

Nick did the same, staring down, shock in his eyes.

He caught the final few jumps of Sarah McInnis as she hopped down the walls of both building, rebounding off one, to the other, then she landed on the pavement. She turned her head to look up, her façade down, her wesen face clear for him to see, then she darted off.

Unharmed.

“Did you just see that?!” Hank cried, shocked.

“Oh yeah, I saw,” Nick answered, shaking his head.

*

“Klippenspringer.”

“Come again?”

Monroe handed him a beer and Nick followed him out of the kitchen into the living room. 

“Klippenspringer. Looks like a lemming on a bad hair day, right? Frizzy, kinda like an eisbiber with longer hair and sideburns like Wolverine?”

“You watch X-Men?”

Monroe looked comically taken aback. “Dude! Paper! I read!”

“Comics.”

“Graphic novels. What’s wrong with that? Had a whole collection back when I was a kid. Sadly, my great-aunt Mad Nelly ate them. And don’t ask about the mad part. Self-explanatory because of the eating my comics thing, right?”

Nick smiled and took a swallow. “So, a klippenspringer…?” he probed.

“Actually harmless. Got that lemming mentality to jump off buildings when chased.”

Nick grimaced. “Right.”

“No, really. Well, not usually buildings.” Monroe shrugged. “But they aren’t afraid of heights and are good climbers. More like squirrels maybe. Anyway, they run first and think later. And they hate to be caged, hence the whole not going to prison spiel.”

“She killed a man, Monroe.”

“I’m not saying they are innocent, just… harmless as wesen. Compared to, say, a blutbad. Or a jagerbar. Or…” he gestured. “Well, you or Renard.”

“I get it, I get it. So where would a klippenspringer run off to?”

“Who knows? Once off and running they rarely stop. One of my cousins said he chased one a long time ago. Never caught them. They are tireless, man.”

“That I noticed, too. She’s in the wind then.”

“Most likely. And if she keeps on running your problem might solve itself. They have a tendency to really, really run. And run. And finally keel over dead.”

Nick grimaced.

They had an APB out on her and she was in the police database. If Sarah McInnis appeared anywhere, she would be found sooner or later. Until then they had a semi-closed case with the perpetrator identified but not arrested. 

He hated such cases.

“So, dinner?” Monroe asked and made a flourishing gesture.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Eating me out of house and home, I know, I know,” the blutbad groused good-naturedly.

Nick took another beer from the fridge and walked back into the living room for the vegetarian beef stew Monroe had invited him over for.

* * *

The call that came in just as he walked into his house had no ID. Nick didn’t recognize the number and it was too long and too strange to have its origin somewhere in North America. He answered it.

“Burkhardt.”

“Detective Nick Burkhardt,” a female, accented voice said. “My name is Nadine. Nadine Renard.”

Nick blinked. Renard? Sean had only one sister and for his mother it sounded too young, but… Right!

“You’re Sean’s sister-in-law,” he answered. “Maurice’s wife.”

“Yes.”

“How can I help you, Nadine?”

She was silent for a moment, then, “Are you aware of what has happened?”

Nick frowned. “That is a very general question. Care to specify?”

She laughed, a soft, musical note that didn’t sound false. But there was a tenseness in her voice that alerted Nick to something that must have happened in Chile.

“Maurice told me you are a police officer as well as a Grimm. He said Sean has found a worthy mate in you. I have to agree.”

“Well, thanks, I think.” That sounded almost like Maurice, the ass, had said something nice. About Nick. Go figure.

“He also told me to call you.”

“Why?”

“Two days ago, my husband disappeared. There was something going on in Santiago lately, a tension that had him on the edge. I think the Families staged something, detective. They have been more… visual, lately. More present, if that makes any sense. Maurice had reapers in town that upset the Protectorate.”

Nick felt his own tension now. 

“Of course there are always reapers around. Personally I can’t tolerate them, but that is truly a private matter for me,” Nadine went on. “For them to be so visual and actually take lives to taunt a regnant, something was going on. Maurice took action as he should, clearly stating who Santiago belongs to, but things got… out of hand. He called Sean, let him know. They might not be brothers like humans would see them, but they are regnants and they are related.”

The tension tripled.

“Then a call came. From his sister. She had been attacked.”

“And she called Maurice?” That sounded highly unlikely. Especially since the siblings had little to no contact.

“Someone called, detective,” Nadine clarified. “And claimed Mireille was their prisoner.” She laughed hollowly. “I wouldn’t believe that on a good day. Mireille is an accomplished Guardian. No regnant her age would fall for a trap to get them. No wesen in his right mind would take a regnant either.”

“Aside from the Royals?”

She snorted. “Their blood has thinned and degenerated. They are a pale shadow of their former glory and they will never rise again in power. They play games and they posture and threaten and kill to instill fear. So Maurice said he’d play the game and that was two days ago.”

“Why are you calling me now, Nadine?”

“Because Maurice told me to if he didn’t return in two days. He said to warn you. You are a regnant’s mate, a Grimm. You might not appreciate the way he introduced himself to you, but he does respect you and your status as Sean’s bonded mate.”

Nick nearly laughed, but he kept himself in check. Maurice had tested his and Sean’s bond, had assessed Nick, and even today, months later, he felt something cold and angry rise inside of him, the Grimm wanting his pound of flesh. 

“What happened to Maurice?” he asked.

“I do not know, but I trust he will come back to me.”

Nick swallowed, aware that Renard was in just the same situation. He had disappeared, for whatever reason, maybe going after whoever claimed to have Mireille, and maybe he might never see him again.

Not acceptable.

“You have to be careful, detective. Something is happening and it is connected. I have seen them around my home and I will defend myself and my family. I doubt we are the true target. So be careful.”

“Already am, but thanks for the heads up. Will you be okay?”

Another laugh, this time lighter. “I’m not defenseless, Grimm. You couldn’t come to my aid anyway. Chile isn’t around the corner.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you needed help,” Nick said hastily.

“No, you are worried. I appreciate the worry. Rest assured, I won’t fall to reapers. They don’t want me. I’m very much convinced they are not after my husband either. They wouldn’t dare. Their heads would roll. Something is happening and it revolves around Sean and you. It’s a twisted game and you have to be very, very careful, Nick Burkhardt.”

“I will be,” he replied evenly. “Thanks.”

“For the Families to set up such a complicated net, luring away your mate, they have chosen now to take care of you, Grimm.”

“I already had an encounter.”

Nadine was silent, clearly digesting that. “Who?”

“A mauvais dentes.”

A curse, Spanish or a language sounding like it, was the answer. “Royals, then. This isn’t over yet. My husband was correct in his assumptions. Whatever they are playing at, luring all regnants away, you are at the center. Your death would be their benefit, unless your mate makes an example.”

Nick felt suddenly cold. “An example of what?”

She sounded amused. “Of those behind the game, Grimm. If this is their game, the Renards are playing it. And when it’s over, blood will have been shed. Copiously.”

He suppressed a shiver.

“Take care, Nick Burkhardt.”

“Yeah. You, too. Thanks for the call.”

She hung up and Nick sat back, staring at the dark phone.

After a while he got up and dug out the data from Adalind again.

 

tbc...


	7. Chapter 7

Going to the trailer was a given. Not only because of Diane. Nick hadn’t told Monroe about the strange wesen. There would be a time for that later.

Unlocking the door, Nick switched on the light and entered the small trailer, crammed full of with an ancient and not-so-ancient collection of Grimm things. Nick had tried to discover a system with which Marie had arranged everything, but there was none to be found. So Nick had developed his own and so far it worked. Kind of.

Collecting several leather-bound books and some hardcover journals, the young Grimm decided to use the bed to make up camp.

Nick had decided to look through the few books that had anything about regnants. He knew the pages from heart, had read them so many times, but maybe he had overlooked something. His ancestors had had very little on these powerful wesen and Nick had learned more through Sean than from the written words. Only one of his ancestors had ever come face to face with a regnant, and only for a brief time, and he hadn’t really known what he had been looking at until the wesen had been gone again.

A shadow, a myth, a legend, a rarity, a creature powerful enough to be a problem for Grimms, but none had ever hunted the only humans who could see the wesen as what they were.

It also gave him something to do. Maybe he could polish up his knowledge on other things, start reading one of the many books he hadn’t gone through as thoroughly as others.

It would pass the time.

It also almost always set his brain into a mode that let him review past events, ponder what had happened, go down a different road of thinking. Nick had had a few insights in the trailer in the past.

 

One of those insights he had was that Diane’s true nature had many names, but as of the past two centuries she was called a nachträuber. He should be damn glad she was on his side. Talk about vicious and without conscience. If one of them had been sent after the Grimm, Nick would be dead without knowing what had hit him, most likely. Then again, they were reluctant to go up against Grimms for some reason and the few sightings and closer encounters his ancestors had had, went by without a problem.

To Nick, the notes taken over centuries made little sense and he suspected the wesen were more than happy to be obscure. One of his long-dead forefathers mused on a connection to Native American folklore, the thunderbird, another thought them to be founded in Greek mythology, namely the harpies, another had put them in West India, so-called ruhks. But since nachträuber had been present all over the world, maybe there was no true legend or fairy tale that described them completely.

What all the stories had in common was the danger and deadliness, as well as their unwavering loyalty when a nachträuber chose a master to be bound to. They were called weapons, even swords, like Diane had called herself. Interesting.

Nick turned a page and found only blank paper. The next page was about another wesen.

Not much to go on, but he had had less and worked it out. Well, at least he knew she was on their side. If she spoke the truth, and his ancestors had repeatedly mentioned that they never outright lied. Nachträuber obfuscated, but they didn’t lie, least about their affiliations.

It still didn’t tell him where his mate had gone off to and why.

*

It was already late when Nick left. The books had captured his interest and he had read a lot about all kinds of wesen and his ancestors. Not much about regnants, though. Nothing more than he had already discovered in the beginning when Renard had revealed what he was. But he had learned more about lowen, hundjäger, seltenvogel, and even about mauvais dentes.

Nick stepped down the stairs and had just closed the door when he had this tingly feeling. Like being watched, like there was someone there when there never had been before. He froze for a second, the Grimm growling softly underneath the surface of the police officer, then his eyes caught a movement. A reflection in the silvery skin of the trailer.

And Nick moved out of the way before something slammed into the metal and left a deep dent.

He lashed out, hit something hard but still yielding; flesh and bone.

His attacker jumped back with a snort. He was taller than the Grimm, slender, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket – and he looked like someone had put a very ugly horse’s head on his shoulders --without real skin, stringy hair and a very, very bad disposition. The flesh of the creature was gray and Nick stared at the black veins.

Like out of a bad horror flick.

Nick countered the next attack, evading the hoof-like hands. He slipped under the taller man, placing his own blows against the unprotected back. The wesen whirled around, grabbing for his elusive prey.

And he was fast.

Something slammed into Nick’s back and he went down.

Rolling around, the Grimm swung his legs up and kicked the attacker off himself, burying a fist into the equine face. Lips pulled back over impressive teeth.

There were breathless moments of pure adrenaline, trying to survive, the fist slamming into his side, driving the breath out of him.

New pain exploded at the edge of his senses. Sharp. Fierce. Angry. The hot flare as his ribs cracked a little more. Desperation and adrenaline mixed together, and he lashed out, catching the wesen at the throat.

Nick got out from under the assassin and made for the trailer, lunging at his weapons cabinet. His fingers curled around the handle of a sledgehammer, and he swung it at the creature.

It connected with a sickening crunch and the wesen flew back, but was back on his feet in a heartbeat.

Nick felt something rise inside him, something that had been underneath the surface so far, like a waiting, hungry creature that now wanted out.

Nostrils in the ugly horse face blew wide. Sharp teeth were bared and the wesen came at him.  
Nick gave up all pretense of being human and just reacted to the threat, let the Grimm instinct take over.

*

It was over.

Nick trembled, his adrenaline level dropping with the absence of any more threats. He felt cold and was sweating in one, but his mind was still rather clear. He fought for control over his body and felt his muscles react weakly. A Grimm’s will power was immense and the primal side was insistent that he had to get away from here. Fingers bit into the ground as he forced himself onto his knees. His stomach churned, his vision fogged now and then, and he had trouble staying on his feet, but he fought.

Nick stumbled and fell against something hard, noting it was a wall. Wall? How had that gotten here?

He staggered again.

He had to call… call…

Monroe. He had to call Monroe.

His mind slowed down on him and it was infinitely hard to catch a thought. The adrenaline crash was unstoppable.

His fingers finally got hold of his cell and he pushed the speed dial that contained Monroe’s number. The world was blacking out around him.

“Hello?”

Monroe’s voice startled him out of his decline and Nick thought he managed a few coherent sentences, but Monroe’s now rather frantic calls had him think again.

Or not.

Because he was slipping.

His head hurt, his vision swam, and nothing seemed to make any sense any more. Maybe he had given Monroe his location, maybe not.

The phone slipped from his fingers.

* * *

The pale yellow Bug came to a near-screeching halt on the rough gravel of the trailer yard. Its headlights pierced the coming dark and illuminated the ghastly sight.

Well, ghastly to the driver.

Monroe got out of his beloved little car and stared at the scene.

The trailer door was wide open. The lights were on. There was a dent in the dusky aluminum shell. Just shy of the first step, on the damp ground, lay his best friend and Portland’s resident Grimm, features lax, eyes closed, one hand still holding his cell phone. Not far from him lay a second body, bloody and very much dead, if Monroe’s nose was any judge. Some kind of sledgehammer or Viking cricket bat was next to the dead guy.

Monroe’s nostrils flared again, but he scented no one else around. Usually people who parked their trailers here didn’t spend much time in them, which had made this the perfect hideaway for Nick’s treasure trove of a trailer.

He quickly checked on his unconscious friend, found a regularly beating pulse, a lot of abrasions and cuts and the heat of bruises forming under his shirt, but Nick wasn’t bleeding to death. At least to his eye he wasn’t.

The other guy… Monroe had no idea who he was. He must have been a wesen to end dead like this at the hands of a Grimm. Nick would never kill anyone with a Grimm choice of weapon if he had been a simple burglar or homeless guy looking for a quick dime. No service weapon in sight and from Nick’s state, he had fought with the man.

Monroe searched through the pockets of the dead wesen, found no ID, though a wallet with a few dollars and a few more foreign notes. British, he saw. So the guy was English or Scottish or something like that.

Straightening, the blutbad sighed. “Man, what you get me into,” he muttered and got out his cell to call for help. “But what are friends for?” He shook his head. “Gift baskets aren’t enough to repay me for that one.”

Monroe placed a call.

 

tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

He woke in a world of muted pain and a lot of confusion. 

The first sense that returned that of sound. There as a muffled murmuring; nothing clear.  
Then there was sight. Through his closed eyelids, Nick picked up lights. He couldn't crack his eyes open, though. It was just too hard. Like lifting weights with his eyelids. It was disconcerting, but the exhaustion dragged him down and didn’t let him ponder this weakness.

Then came touch. He was laying on something comfortable. It was warm, but not stuffy or overwhelmingly hot. It was soft, supportive and it smelled.... floral. A freshly made bed, clean laundry…

Then came the pain. His body was twinging everywhere, but not as badly as it should be if the memories slowly filtering through were any indication. His head hurt, though. And it felt like the world around him was packed in wool and wrapped in bubble-wrap. His thoughts were too slow, conflicting, making no sense. While he made a connection between fresh sheets and warmth as safety, another part of him was tense and ready to spring into action, despite his general condition.

That part was growing.

It was ridiculously easy to simply let it take over because it meant survival. Right now that sensation sat in the back of his mind, nervous, twitching, ready to strike. He wasn’t strong enough to lift a finger, but should anything go after him, things would change.

Nick finally blinked his eyes open, trying to focus them on anything familiar, but all around him was nothing but low lights, probably from drawn curtains, and an unfamiliar smell. As unfamiliar as the bed.

He didn’t know how long he just lay there, trying to get his bearings – and failing --, wondering when he could have at least two coherent thoughts, when there was a noise.

A door opened.

Nick tensed, felt the presence of someone else. The sensation of survival at all costs grew. It perched on the edge, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. 

And then his Grimm side screeched in alarm. 

More memories flooded back. Memories of a fight, of danger, adrenaline rushing through him. Trying to survive. 

His brain sent out impulses to his body. Fight. He had to fight.

Survive.

He listened to instinct as he rolled out of bed, all pain pushed back into a part of his brain that might just be called his primitive reptile brain, and adrenaline flooded his veins.

He was upon the unfamiliar person – wesen, the Grimm whispered sharply – and had him wrestled to the ground before his more logical side could intervene. 

There was a loud ‘oompf’, then a growl and Nick had his instinctive reaction go up several notches: he went for the kill.

Something grabbed him from behind and hauled him off his target. He gasped for air, then his hands were grabbed and he was pushed down.

“Nick!”

A growl, low and rumbling and still dangerous, but his logical side screamed at him that this one was familiar.

Not Monroe.

Not Sean.

Someone…

He blinked, pushing the primal Grimm back, fighting to see who he was going up against, and he gazed into a pair of dark eyes in a too sharply defined face with a lot more teeth than a human being should have. A lot sharper, too.

“Frank,” he managed.

The smile was a bit terrifying, but it spoke of relief. “Yes.”

Still, the features were sharper than normal, the bear was just behind that human façade, and Nick knew that Frank was controlling himself very, very tightly.

He was released and the jagerbar helped him up, Nick’s knees trying to lock to stay upright. He was woozy, his head was pounding even more, and the pain was coming back.

“Sit down before you crash,” the lawyer instructed, his voice smooth and warm and so very evened out that Nick felt himself obey. “Barry, open the curtains just a little.”

Barry. Had he…? Nick blinked into the faint light, probably dusk approaching, and he suddenly knew from the look the younger Rabe gave him that he had pounced on the jagerbar.

“How do you feel?” Frank asked, drawing his attention away from the younger man, looking closely at him.

“Like my head’s about to explode,” Nick answered with a soft groan. “Along with everything else.”

With the adrenaline rush abating, everything seemed to collapse in upon him. His brain was slush, his reaction in slow motion, and thoughts were slowing to a crawl. Mortification at what he had done – without thinking – reached him, but it was swallowed in his exhaustion. Part of him sneered that a wesen should know better than to be around a wounded Grimm. Another part was too embarrassed to listen to that.

“No wonder. Get some more rest,” Frank instructed. “There’s water. You’re safe here.”

“Where?” the Grimm asked, doing as he was told. It felt wonderful to be flat on his back again.

“My place. Monroe brought you here. Now sleep. We’ll be downstairs. No one’s getting at you here, Nick. I promise. No one who enters the room will cause you harm.”

Nick gave him a weak smile, then let himself fall into sleep again.

He was safe.

And his instinctive part agreed.

*

Nick had drifted off into a light doze for a while, the painkillers demanding that he shut down, and he woke once or twice, but each time he went back to sleep. When he woke the third time, he felt a bit better, but still, his brain was like a big piece of mush, each thought sloshing through and failing to make a connection with the next. It was disconcerting. Especially when he thought about getting up, then wondered just how, and then forgot he was actually trying to.

Great, his mind decided. Just great. No idea what had happened and too groggy to get his thought processes into a semblance of order. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. It just hurt, period.

The lights had changed, as had the sounds. The smell and the feel were still the same, though. It was completely dark, but a glance at the bedside table clock told Nick it wasn’t even nine p.m. yet. 

He finally got up after a lot of effort to coordinate everything and swayed a little, but he was able to stand on his own two feet unassisted, which was a big plus. 

There were fresh clothes on the chair next to the door and he took them gratefully. Nick made it out into the hallway and found the guest bathroom where he got a first look at his beat-up condition. He splashed water into his face and ignored the pain from the bruised cheekbone, then checked the rest of his body. There was a large contusion forming over his newly fractured rib – thankfully not broken – peeking out from under a bandage Frank must have applied. His knuckles were bruised, there was a cut on his left forearm, and his back felt like he had dislocated just about every disc in his spine.

Running damp fingers through his unruly hair, Nick tried to assess just how badly off he was. Not too bad considering he had been up against some bad-ass creature he had never seen before. He would have to look through the books in the trailer to get an idea who and what he had killed.

Speaking of which: the body.

Hopefully he hadn’t indisposed Monroe more than the last time. Burying bodies was becoming a habit.

With a lot of difficulty, Nick managed a hot shower, which revived him some more. He slipped into the clothes, which were a bit too big for him, and rolled up the sleeves of the dark gray sweater. He might not be ready for another round with the things out there who wanted to sink their claws and teeth into a Grimm, but he was awake and walking on his own power, ready to talk to Frank. 

Nick made it down the stairs into the expansive living room-kitchen area, feeling himself relax in the comfort and warmth of a home he had been to often before. Frank’s house was becoming as familiar as Monroe’s. 

The lawyer sat in front of the TV, laptop running, while the TV was playing a game. Barry wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Hey,” Nick said softly, aware that Frank knew he had been approaching.

“Hey. Sit down before you fall over. Are you hungry?” The jagerbar had pushed the laptop aside and rose.

Nick fought down his instinctive reaction to take a step back. In his weakened state the cop and friendly neighborhood Grimm had made way for the wary creature that knew Frank could easily wipe the floor with him now. 

The lawyer regarded him calmly, clearly aware of his inner turmoil.

“No. But a glass of water would be great,” Nick finally said.

He still felt fuzzy. Detached from the world. He desperately tried to clear his head, but it was an impossibility. 

“I can do that. Sit, please.” 

So he sat.

Nick stared at the wall, lost in thought. It took a bit longer to get going on logical thinking than usual. He felt like someone had drained him of all energy.

The glass was in his hands and Nick drank it slowly. A couple of pain pills were pushed into his other hands a second later.

“Swallow. You’ll thank me later.”

“Oh, I’ll thank you right away. I feel like I was stomped on by a horse.”

And wasn’t that an apt description for the wesen who had tried to kill him? In a way the face had had a lot of horse features, together with stringy, blond hair and hands that had looked suspiciously like hooves.

“What happened?” he asked.

Frank regarded him steadily for a long two seconds. “You called Monroe.”

“That I remember.”

“Not much else?”

“Vaguely.” Nick didn’t really want to drag Frank into this. He had hoped Monroe wouldn’t either. Apparently his friend had decided he needed more help than a wieder-blutbad could give.

“Monroe found you unconscious with a dead man not far away. Blunt force trauma. The weapon was near-by. He called me because he couldn’t deal with both you and the dead man.”

Nick tensed abruptly. He had been at the trailer and only Monroe and Sean knew where it was. Frank raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Client confidentiality.”

The Grimm blinked. “I’m your client?”

“And friend and ally. Call it what you want. As your lawyer I won’t disclose the location of the trailer to anyone.”

“You know what it is?”

“I have a pretty good idea, yes, especially since Monroe put that blunt weapon used in the kill back into it. Believe me, jagerbar are wesen who understand about heirlooms and honoring your ancestors.” 

The twist to Frank’s lips told the story. Nick knew it intimately.

“Monroe has also called your partner Hank Griffin to let him know you’re alive, that you’re with friends, and that you’ll call him as early as possible. He apparently didn’t ask too many questions. Monroe has gone to your house to get you some things, lock up, and let the neighbors and the eisbiber know you survived.”

Nick closed his eyes and let his head sink back against the couch, wishing his hammering headache would subside. 

“You might have an eisbiber infestation here soon then,” he joked weakly.

“I can deal with eisbiber,” was the deep rumble, laced with a lot of amusement.

Nick smiled. Frank probably could.

* * *

A noise alerted him and his eyes snapped back open – how long had he been dozing again? – and Barry froze in mid-step. Eyes wide, the young jagerbar stared at him, visibly ill at ease, then he seemed to force himself into moving past into the kitchen. 

Frank had been at his laptop again, only glancing at Nick, but from the still too sharp features Nick knew the wesen was just under the surface. There was a tension in the room that hadn’t been there ever since his very first encounter with the Rabes over the case of a missing man.

 

Frank had watched his guest fall asleep in the middle of his living room, features relaxing, breathing evening out. Nick had looked young and vulnerable and as beat up as he probably was. The tense lines had disappeared and the danger the Grimm radiated had lessened, though to the jagerbar there was still that buzz that told him that this man wasn’t to be underestimated, even injured as he was. 

He had stopped his work and simply watched, amazed again by the trust Nick had in him and Barry, like in Monroe or Rosalee or anyone else who could so easily do something not so friendly, like sell him out or kill him.

Frank scented the air, smelling nothing but the clean, sharp smell of Nick. No sickness, just the injuries. Rosalee had let him know that she would bring some herb salves and helpful medication she would mix for Nick. He trusted in her apothecary skills for that. 

The jagerbar finally rose and grabbed a blanket, placing it carefully over the sleeping Grimm. Nick didn’t wake, which told him that the man truly did feel safe here.

It touched something in Frank that was hard to describe. He liked Nick, he trusted him, he had willingly helped him as much as he possibly could in the past and had sworn his loyalty to him. Nick repaid it with something a jagerbar wasn’t used to: a Grimm’s utter and complete trust.

He took his laptop and sat down again, continuing his work with soft taps, senses on his guest.

 

tbc...


	9. Chapter 9

Barry came downstairs about an hour later, looking apprehensive, but no longer hostile when it came to Nick. He had finished his homework assignments and instead of watching TV upstairs, his curiosity had made him come down.

“How is he?” he asked quietly, nostrils flaring a little as he scented.

“Sleeping.”

His son’s expression reflected what Frank had thought before: utter trust. It would be so easy… so very easy… and still he would never think about it.

Nick’s eyes suddenly opened and Barry froze, eyes widening, and only Frank’s age and control had him stop from shifting. The Grimm’s nature flared and he didn’t think Nick was even aware of it, the defenses snapping into place and going up a notch with every second.

The Grimm looked at Barry and the young jagerbar trembled.

“Nick,” Frank said softly, never moving, never looking away.

Nick looked at him, blinking, and the danger level went down a little. But he probably didn’t know what he was doing. There was a little bit of confusion in those wide, gray eyes, and if Frank didn’t know differently he would call the younger man innocent and vulnerable. Dark bangs hanging into his face, sleep-tousled, still exhausted, in pain, and probably not really sure where he had woken up when he had opened his eyes.

Barry moved toward the kitchen, each step like he had to force himself, and Frank watched him for a second, then went back to meeting the Grimm’s quizzical eyes.

“Hungry?” he offered.

“No, thanks,” was the rough answer.

“But you should drink something at least.”

Nick shrugged a little and obviously regretted it as it pulled at some abused muscle or shifted a fractured bone.

It was Barry who handed Nick a soda, trying for normalcy while all he wanted to do was listen to his wesen side and make a run for things. Frank was proud of his son, of how far he had come from the young man who had nearly taken two lives to the jagerbar who was now getting back his own life, got good grades and was looking at a normal life.

Barry settled down and switched on the TV, zapping channels until he reached a game he was interested in. Nick simply sipped his soda, not moving much, actually sinking into the blanket some more.

Frank hid a smile and went back to work.

*

It was the arrival of Monroe that finally clued Nick in. The blutbad stepped into the house, brows rising and eyes sweeping around the room. They came to rest on Nick and Monroe shook his head.

“Dude!” he exclaimed. “Vibes to the max! Tune it down or something’s going to give! And it’s not going to be pretty, I can tell you that!”

“W-what?” Nick stuttered.

“The Grimm! You’re giving off vibes that would have a pack of blutbaden yowling!” Monroe walked over, waving around the room. “The tension in here is about to blow the roof off this place.”

“I… I’m not…”

“Man, this is gonna be a problem, right?”

Nick had no idea. He actually had no idea at all. Especially when it came to what Monroe was talking about.

“The Grimm, dude! You feel like you’re about to whip out a pair of scimitars and well..” He made a general gesture, encompassing all of them. “Bye, bye, wesen.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Monroe looked at him, his expression serious and rather fierce. “Maybe not now, but if this goes on and you keep getting attacked, you might just lose it, become the Grimm we know from our nightmares.”

“I’d never hurt any of you!” Nick snapped, the anger rising with the indignation.

From the flash of fear in Barry’s eyes and the much sharper expression in Frank’s, he knew it had happened again. He scrubbed a hand over his bruised face, wincing.

“Nick,” Monroe caught his attention. “You know that this is a two-way road, right? The psychic bond and all. It’s not just about the regnant, but also about the Grimm. You guys have a tendency to go off the deep end. Well, in a way. Look at your mom.” He stopped, cleared his throat, then, “Forget that. Bad example. I’m not mentioning your scary aunt either.”

“I’m getting it,” Nick said tiredly.

“You would. Of course. Anyway. It might get repetitive, but you know you’re the perfect mate to balance a regnant, right? Not you personally; a Grimm.”

Nick nodded.

“And regnants balance a Grimm’s temper.”

“How would you know?”

Monroe glanced at Rosalee, who had been silent and watchful all the time. “We found some books. Ancient stuff. Really hard to translate, so it took a while, and I’m not sure we got all of it right. What I’m saying is, it’s psychic, right? It helps Renard and in a way it also helps and balances you. All of this, the whole bad vibe gig, it’s because you’re on your own, threatened, under attack and nearly got killed. You’ve started to rely on your mate in a way.”

Nick scowled, the Grimm in him, that anger and fury he had felt before, rising once more. He wasn’t a child and he sure as hell didn’t need Renard’s protection!

Rosalee pushed past Monroe and approached Nick without hesitation. She sank onto the couch next to him, eyes intense and warm and deep as she cupped his unshaven face. There was something akin to a rumbling purr coming from her, something that reached very deep into Nick’s soul and caressed a wounded part.

“You’re not weak, Nick. No one thinks that. But you are under a lot of pressure and the cracks are starting to show. Renard left you with a tall order and you’re trying so very hard to do him justice.”

Her thumbs caressed his cheeks.

“But no one’s hurting you here or is going to harm you. You’re safe here, Nick,” the fuchsbau told him calmly. “You can be yourself and you can keep your own creature in check.”

The purr increased and her features shifted. Red and brown and white fur with the occasional dark slash replaced human skin. She looked more like her fox self, her eyes still filled with that absolute calm and the knowledge Nick wouldn’t hurt her. If he really gave off dangerous vibes, the fuchsbau was ignoring them completely.

Rosalee placed one hand carefully onto his chest, still holding his eyes. Nick was aware of everyone watching, but he didn’t care. His Grimm side seemed to finally understand that things were alright, that he wasn’t in immediate danger, and when Rosalee smiled he knew he had managed to switch off those vibes Monroe had been talking about.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

She smiled more. “Anytime.” 

She let go and Nick felt a little like he had lost something, the wounded soul she had touched yearning for this closeness, but he knew Rosalee wasn’t the one he needed. Nick realized that the psychic bond he shared with Sean was more than just something that helped the regnant to be balanced in his powers. It was something the Grimm could use, too. It was something that gave him more than he had before, something he couldn’t give a name, something he didn’t know what to call, but it was there and his. 

And if the other Grimms had given in to the dark, furious nature he had felt before, the primal side that fought and killed and wouldn’t back down at any cost, he understood why his kind was such a nightmare to wesen. Nick hadn’t been raised to embrace this darkness, but he hadn’t been taught how to shelf it either. He needed the instinct and rush to survive, but he didn’t want to kill indiscriminately. 

Sean had apparently balanced that. Right now, with the Guardian’s absence and Nick’s weakness, he wanted this connection more than ever. He was a target and while he wasn’t easily taken down, he wasn’t on top of his game either.

Looking at the four wesen in the room, his allies and friends, Nick realized that it was part of why his vibes were going off so strong. He was warning off anyone stupid enough to think he was prey and Barry had shown it more openly than his father how much it affected the jagerbars.

“Let me look at you,” Rosalee interrupted his thoughts. She gestured back up the stairs to the bedroom. “I’ve brought along some helpful things.”

“Are you sure?” he asked tentatively.

Rosalee smiled, warm and open and loving. “I am sure, Nick. I trust you.”

Monroe met the Grimm’s doubtful eyes and nodded his affirmative. “You’re good to go, dude. All under control. And you’re not going to snap just like that, without provocation. I wouldn’t really want to be in the next assassin’s shoes, though.”

Rosalee scowled.

“Uh,” the blutbad backpedalled verbally. “I’m not saying there will be another. Just in case, you know.”

Frank chuckled. “Go with her, Nick.”

So he did.

 

Rosalee was careful but firm in her treatment of the various injuries. Nick winced more than once and was relieved when the first numbing effects of the various herbal concoctions started. She caressed his face again, the soft purring a low-level background noise all the time.

“Thank you,” he said.

“It was nothing. You should rest some more, Nick. You’ll need it. Your body has been through a lot in the past days.”

“I think I’ve slept enough, thanks.”

“Listen to your needs. You’re safe, Nick. You should also eat something. You need to feed yourself to heal. You might be more enduring than anyone else going up against what you do, but you do need to let yourself recover.”

“I will,” he promised.

Rosalee gave him a smile and rose gracefully. 

“Rosalee?”

The fuchsbau looked at him.

“I apologize.”

“You did nothing wrong, Nick. As Monroe said, it’s a two-way road, and it’s a good road. It’s a firm bond. You need your mate and he needs you, but you don’t depend rigidly on one another.”

“If his absence means I turn into a monster, then it’s dependence.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand, Nick. You don’t need him to be yourself. You’re you and we know you. What you need is to find a calm point in this chaos Renard has left behind when he left. You’re chased by wesen who want to kill you, assassinate you, in someone’s name. I suspect the Royal Families.”

Nick nodded slowly. 

“And it’s set you on edge. That edge needs to be curbed.” Rosalee smiled. “What you need is rest, calmness, a place to retreat and regain your strength.”

“Like here?”

Her smile widened. “You’re learning. Renard and you, you might be linked, but you’re not one person. You can control this, Nick. You have so far, even without him there in the beginning of your journey. You can do it now. You’re not alone in this. We’re here for you and we will protect you.”

Nick met her dark eyes, drawn into that calmness, and he nodded slowly. 

“And your first step is to sleep,” Rosalee added. “You will feel better and you will feel more in control of matters.”

“I guess.”

“I know,” she corrected.

Nick chuckled and Rosalee gave him a friendly smile, then closed the door after herself as she left the room.

 

Nick almost immediately fell from barely awake into deeply asleep upon hitting the bed.

* * *

In the Moon Diana Merdez watched the comings and goings of her guest, the bodies undulating to the pounding music, the strobe lights dancing over the semi-dressed forms of the young men and women. Well, young compared to her anyway. Everyone seemed very young when it came to that. She smiled slightly, then turned to her messenger.

“Has the body been disposed of?”

The blutbad and the jagerbar took care of it.”

“Good. Make sure it won’t be found at all. We can’t have that.”

He nodded.

Who would have thought that the young Grimm could go up against a nuckelavee and come out alive? Diana was impressed and that was something she rarely felt. Renard had a strong mate and Nick would get stronger. 

‘Bad ass dude’ some of her clients down on the dance floor would call him.

And he was.

Meeting Nick Burkhardt had given her a good insight into the Grimm and she respected Renard’s choice. Grimm’s were the perfect match for a regnants and this one was truly outstanding. That Nick hadn’t taken her up on the offer to use her talents spoke of his innocence concerning what he was, what Renard was, what his world truly was. She could have taken out the nuckelavee without much fuss. On top of that, they also tasted good.

Diana smiled.

“Let’s see if he was alone,” she finally said out loud.

The messenger inclined his head.

“And should you run into a Family member, do warn him of future interference. The Guardian might not be in right now, but his guard is.” 

There were a lot of teeth to her smile and she let her true nature slip for a moment. The messenger nodded again, then silently walked away.

Diana reached for a glass of red wine, though it was hardly alcohol. Whispers had reached her ears, of what Renard had done, of what had happened, of the consequences. Not for Portland but for the Families. She would make sure they heeded the warning. More whispers spoke of Renard’s return and she was looking forward to it. 

Oh, but to be there when he and his mate reunited!

Diana chuckled. She loved that energy, that raw power, that sensuality only achieved in that one moment. But she valued her life more than such a delicate morsel. Renard would kill her should she ever cross that line.

She had no intention to do so.

 

tbc...


	10. Chapter 10

Monroe had started to field calls the moment some of Nick’s friends had gotten wind of what had happened. Zoe was the first to call and the blutbad wondered if all that excitement wouldn’t get her into premature labor. He tried to calm her down, told her that things were under control and no, they didn’t need a small, furry amazon to defend their local Grimm.  
Bud was next. The eisbiber promised to set up a guard around Nick’s house and Monroe rolled his eyes. But he was glad someone offered.

Victoria’s call was almost business-like, but her worry swung through. From the noise level in the background, Monroe figured she was in some kind of bar. 

Drew was almost immediately ringing through the moment Monroe had hung up after saying his good-byes to Victoria. His tentative questions had the blutbad smile and he reassured the klaustreich as well, telling him to say hi to Roddy. Drew promised to let others know, like Holly, who had taken a liking to the two boys. Not that Roddy felt will with a female blutbad as a friend. He had reluctantly warmed to the young woman, especially since she tried very hard to fit in and keep her wesen side in check, but he never met her alone. Reinigen simply had a very strong survival instinct.

Rosalee came down the stairs when he had hung up on Bud and she smiled. “He’s fine. Sleeping, hopefully. He needs some more rest and with his rather healthy disposition and the herbs Nick should be better in the morning. His ribs need time, but everything else is more of a bother than a danger.”

Everyone was visible relieved by her verdict and Frank offered coffee and tea.

They accepted.

It was that weird little moment again when Monroe wondered how so different wesen, such different natures, had come together because of their Grimm. Not every wesen he helped had such friendly feelings for Nick, but he had a good collection of various allies from all over the wesen spectrum. The one time Monroe had made a passing reference to Pokemon, Nick had thrown a pillow at him. 

Monroe savored the tea and ate some chips, then he and Rosalee excused themselves to get home.

“Call,” the fuchsbau told Frank. “Should he get worse or aggravate his injuries. Any time, night or day.”

“I will.”

Then they were on their way home in Monroe’s Bug.

He couldn’t shake his worry. He couldn’t but worry anyway. Nick was prone to get into trouble because of his nature and his heritage. Recently the trouble had come in form of things sent to kill him.

Not good.

Yeah, the worry was stronger than before, but they would keep him safe until whatever had drawn Renard away was gone.

* * *

He had actually dozed off once again, falling into a deep, rather refreshing sleep, and only woke when sunlight streamed through the windows. 

Frank was in the kitchen, buttering toast, when Nick came out of the shower. Hair still damp, he had thrown on an old sweater and faded blue jeans; not his own. It was already nine a.m., which was rather late for him to get up, but his body had had a different opinion about rest. 

The jagerbar looked up as Nick walked into the kitchen, giving him a critical once-over. Nick silently poured himself some coffee and then leaned against the kitchen counter. Frank held his recharged cell phone out for him to take. There was a light blinking insistently.

“I think you received a few messages,” he remarked.

“About yesterday…” Nick started almost at the same time.

The lawyer shook his head. “To be expected. I understand little of the psychic connection, but what Monroe and Rosalee told me, it makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still…”

“Nick,” Frank interrupted him, voice even and serious. “You’ve dealt with a lot of different wesen, driven by instinct or fear or just hormones. Like Barry. You found it in you to stop them without killing them, and you forgave them.”

Nick was silent.

“Find it in you to accept that right now you’re just as close to the edge as some of us have been in the past. You know it now, you can feel it coming, and you can control it. Maybe it’s in your blood. Maybe Grimms go through a kind of adolescence as well. You have already chosen to be more than your ancestors and our tales. And should you really overstep a line, we’re there to push you back.”

He took his buttered toast and this morning’s newspaper and walked over to the table. The way he was dressed – crisp, white shirt, tie, suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair -- Frank was off to court today.

Nick was silent, chewing on the words, then decided not to mull over what had happened too much. Like Rosalee had said, Renard had left him with a huge mess to deal with, and there were killers after him, so he had to have his head on straight, not wonder about what might have happened if. 

He checked his phone and groaned silently. He had missed two calls from Hank, who had then written him a text. There was also a message from Bud, one from Zoe, one from Victoria. And there were a few missed calls from a number without a name, but one he knew. It was the one Andrew had sent him. No messages had been left and Nick checked his texts.

And yes, there was one from the schwanensee. 

‘M is home. Call when you can.’

That was all. And it had been over twenty-four hours ago.

Nick looked at the simple words, then picked up his mug and walked outside, letting the door close after him with a soft click. He didn’t check the time in England, simply dialed and waited.

 

Frank simply saved his data and closed the laptop, then slipped into his suit jacket. He didn’t try to listen in to the conversation outside and he told Barry to keep guard but not spy on Nick.

“Like I would, dad!” he protested.

Frank only smiled, squeezed his shoulder, then he left the house and walked to his car.

* * *

The property of the Rabes was large and there were no immediate neighbors. At least none someone could see. Several miles down the road was a gate that led to another house, and more miles past that another. It was truly a quiet area. Those who lived here wanted that quiet for one reason or another.

Past the forest that took up most the land, across an invisible border, through more forest, led a well-trodden path. Generations had used it and more probably would. Like the Rabes, the Colberts were an old family of no longer so traditional jagerbars. At least when it came to the roh-hatz. John Colbert had taught his sons and daughter about their heritage, but he had been as aghast as Frank had been to find out that Diana Rabe had tried to bring back the barbaric tradition of the roh-hatz. His sons had suffered just like Barry and he knew it had taught them a lesson. Like Barry they had come around. 

Jason had served community hours and John had done everything in his powers to help his oldest son rehabilitate. It had been a success. He had gone off to college. Thomas Brandon, T.B., was still attending high-school. Like his older brother he had served community hours and like Jason his life had changed.

Janet, his only daughter and older than her two brothers, had left the house two years ago to study medicine. She was completing an internship next month. That meant only T.B. was home when John saw the stranger. They had taken a ride with the ATVs to check on some of the older trees and Colbert stopped his examination of the giant trees.

The stranger wasn’t from around here. He could almost taste it on him. He didn’t belong to this territory. He was an intruder.

The man was Asian, graying temples, unshaven His eyes looked hard; the eyes of a killer. A tattoo on his left temple stood out. John thought it looked like a star or a snowflake. 

There was also no mistaking what he was.

Colbert felt teeth grow. 

Dressed in dark clothes, carrying something on his back, the schakal moved quickly and with intent through the forest. Trespassing. Colbert almost laughed as the word came to mind. He didn’t really need a legal excuse to go after the schakal. Jagerbars and schakale didn’t really mix very well. But he knew the law; jagerbars had an affinity for the justice system and Colbert no less than Rabe.

“Dad?” T.B. asked quietly.

The older jagerbar felt a growl rise as he sniffed the air. He gestured at his son to follow him and the two followed the intruder.

The schakal used the old path, unaware that he was being shadowed, and was fast approaching the Rabes’ home. 

“Schakal,” T.B. murmured when they circled around some trees and he finally got a sniff of the true nature of the trespasser as well.

Colbert bared his teeth, his features fluctuating. They were now close enough to their neighbor’s house to see someone in the back garden.

T.B. tensed. John recognized the young Grimm. He looked beat up and a bit pale, and he knew from Frank’s brief call what had happened. While he was in the man’s debt for sparing his sons, Colbert had never approached him. It was actually the first time in a long time that he had seen Nick Burkhardt.

And right now the schakal was seeing him, too. Through the scope of a rifle.

John didn’t really think when he moved, aware that his son was right beside him, and the schakal had only a brief moment to be surprised before two jagerbars were upon him. Not even a scream escaped from his throat before it was ripped out.

* * *

Talking to Andrew had alleviated his fears a little. Mireille was home, safe and sound, a little more worn and a lot more banged up than usual after a so-called business meeting, but she was alive. Andrew sounded angry and relieved in one. Angry because Mireille hadn’t talked with him about what was going on; relieved because his wife was home and alive and safe.

The female Guardian of London sounded good-natured enough, though some of her usual banter was missing.

“Sean will be back soon,” she told Nick. “He’ll tell you what happened. Until then, keep safe, Nick.”

“I will.”

“I’m really fine,” she repeated what she had said already, apparently sensing his doubt. “My kind is hard to kill.”

“But you can be killed. And something was out there that had you take that chance.”

She was silent for a second, a soft chuckle the only noise. “You are way too perceptive sometimes, my friend. Yes, something was out there. Sean took care of it our way. You know we had to play it like this, Nick. If we had waited, it would have blown up into our faces.”

“What about Maurice?”

He could almost imagine her surprised expression. “Perceptive,” Mireille repeated. “But he’s alive, too. They tried to tear us apart, take care of those thorns, even though Maurice is more of a nuisance to them. He fought well and his Protectorate is safe, as is his family. He might not behave like it most of the time, but he’s made of sterner stuff. And I wouldn’t want to get between Nadine and the kids. She’s fierce.”

Nick felt himself relax a little more. While he didn’t like Maurice personally, he also wouldn’t want to see him injured or worse. He was married, he had children, and despite everything personal between them, he was a living and breathing human being.

“Anything I should expect to come from this? Anyone I should expect to come for me again?”

“Again?”

“Had a visitor that tried to earn himself some brownie points.”

“Who?” she asked sharply.

Nick rubbed his aching forehead. “Not sure. I haven’t had time to look him up yet. It’s why I haven’t called back sooner, too.”

Mireille could read between the lines and her worry was audible now. “Are you okay?”

“No worse than after other encounters.”

She huffed. “Describe him to me.”

And Nick did. Her sharp curse told him that she knew the creature he even before he had had time to go through his ancestors’ books.

“Nuckelavee!” she spat.

“Uh, what?”

Nick wasn’t sure if it was a colorful curse or a name.

“It was a nuckelavee, Nick. Scottish lore. Dangerous, deadly, employed by the Families to take care of more complicated problems.”

“Like Grimms?”

“Not solely. For them to send a nuckelavee and hope for success, luring Sean away had been their only hope. Knowing what they did, I realize that our own justice was little compared to their gross encroachment into a regnant’s Protectorate to kill his mate. Sean has already drawn his share of blood, but Nick, the moment he knows what happened, and he will soon, you might need to use all you have on him to keep him from doing even worse.”

Nick blinked. “What did you do precisely, Mireille?”

She laughed darkly. “Took care of a few members of the Royal Family. Enough to send more than a simple warning. Enough for them to think about a non-aggression treaty we offered in form of the heads of those we took.”

Nick swallowed, aware what she said and what it meant. He also knew that using the psychic link to Renard might not be enough to keep his mate from taking even more lives.

“Any idea when I can expect him home?”

“No. Sorry. Nick, be well. We did what we had to do and I apologize dearly if it put you in a bad position. It had to be done this way or the whole plan would have gone up in flames. You fought and won your own battles. As your mate’s sister I’m proud to be your ally.”

It sounded incredibly formal, more than she had ever been with him, and Nick almost straightened a little more. Only his abused ribs had him stop.

“And I am very glad you are my friend,” he only replied.

She laughed softly, sounding more and more like her usual self.

“Call when you have everything sorted out on your end,” she only replied. “It might take a while, but you’ll be fine. Both of you.”

They ended on that note and Nick stayed outside a little longer, just watching the trees that grew in wild abandon behind Frank’s house. The jagerbar owned an incredibly large piece of land and it had been in his family for generations, Frank had told him in the past. He felt the cooler wind, listened to the creak and whisper of the trees, and simply enjoyed being out here, alone, only with his thoughts and emotions.

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

Frank received the call right as he pulled into his parking spot. He killed the engine and answered it.

“Rabe.”

“Hey, Frank. It’s John.”

He was surprised. John Colbert was a friend and a fellow jagerbar. Their sons had run together and they had fallen to the lure of the roh-hatz together, but after everything had been over, John had picked up his own pieces and they had been a bit distant. Especially after Frank had made no secret about his cooperation with Nick. There was a respectful, neighborly relationship, but they hadn’t shared a barbecue dinner or invited each other over since. Their sons still interacted, but the grown-ups had become wary. Frank couldn’t fault his neighbor for it. John had made his choices, just like Frank had.

“What’s up?” he asked.

And John told him. Frank sat in his car, shock and surprise and a low-key rumble that was downright bear.

“I took care of the body, Frank,” John told him. “They won’t ever find him.”

“John…”

“It was necessary,” the other jagerbar interrupted him with a growl. “Whoever the schakal was, he had his sights on the Grimm. I know I owe him. More than killing one of those dogs can make up. And if he dies on your property, trouble is too mild a word for what comes next. You think there will be more?”

Frank sighed explosively. “I’m not sure. It’s the third.”

“Schakale?”

“No. One mauvais dentes and a nuckelavee.”

John cursed colorfully and it had Frank smile.

“Yeah. I don’t think there will be an immediate successor to the one you… removed, John. I’ll call Barry and someone else.”

“Tell your boy we’re home.”

“I will. Thanks, John.”

“Welcome. By the way, the guy was tattoed. T.B. made photos. One looks like a snowflake, but there were more on his back. I’ll send you the photos, just in case you need them. Take care.”

Frank leaned back his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Damnit!” he cursed.

His wesen side was snarling and snapping and spoiling for a fight with whoever had trespassed on his land, his territory. They had endangered his family and his friends. His logical side told him that the threat was over and he truly believed there was not a fourth waiting in the shadows. So far each attack had been different and since whoever was behind it now knew the Grimm was protected, Frank was convinced there would be nothing new. At least for as long as Nick stayed at the Rabes’ house.

Finally he dialed Barry’s cell.

“Barry, don’t talk, just listen…”

* * *

Monroe had dropped by the Rabe’s home with a new batch of medication Rosalee had mixed to help Nick. He found Nick in a mixed mood. The news about Renard’s return had picked him. That Mireille was okay had helped, too. That Nick was safest at the Rabes’ home, which meant staying here until Portland had calmed down again, was the downside. 

“I’m a grown man, Monroe!”

“Yes, and a terrible Grimm, too.” The blutbad gave him the raised eyebrows. “But right now you have a price on your head and it’s far more than a few disgruntled wesen half-heartedly trying to scare a Grimm. Those two meant serious business. You should stay here, dude. Really. For my peace of mind.”

Nick shot him a quirky smile.

“Hey!” Monroe protested. “Who do you call to drag you out of situations? Me. Who has to pick up the pieces? Me. And who needs a new life? Me!”

“And I’m always thankful, Monroe, really. You’re my best friend and I know I can count on you.”

“And as your best friend I give the best advice. Stay here, Nick. Just until your mate is back.” 

“And if something comes after me again? Frank and Barry…” 

“Dude, a grown jagerbar and his son? You really don’t know what they can do, do you? Frank might look like your soft, easy to bowl over lawyer, but man, I wouldn’t want to see him in a full rage!”

“Another mauvais dentes or nuckelavee might be enough to hurt them both or worse!”

Monroe stared at him, brows lowering. “Mireille and Sean Renard made an example. Knowing Guardian lore and all the horror stories out there, it was a bloody and gruesome example that far exceeded you lobbing off reaper heads!”

Nick was silent, aware that whatever arguments he had they wouldn’t stand a chance. Monroe had sound reasons as to why he was safest here.

“And we can take care of problems,” Barry stated as he walked into the room.

Monroe frowned and Nick mirrored it. The younger man looked tall and imposing. Like a bear on a mission. There was no hesitation, no fear, as he faced Nick.

“Dad called. There was a schakal outside this morning. With a long-rage rifle.”

“What?!” Nick exploded.

“The Colberts saw him sneak through the woods and followed.”

“And then what?” the Grimm wanted to know.

Barry looked a bit uncomfortable, but part of him reflected a fierce pride and satisfaction.

“Man…” Monroe groaned. “Please don’t tell me…”

The younger man shrugged.

“What?” Nick demanded. Then he froze. “They killed him?”

“Uh, yeah?”

The Grimm ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. “Why?”

“Because the guy was about to shoot you, Nick!” Barry snapped, the bear briefly flashing through. “He had a rifle and he was aiming at you! You were talking on the phone! Outside! You could be dead and T.B. and his dad stopped it from happening!”

Nick fought for calmness, aware that for the third time an assassin had been bested, but this time not by him. It had been a neighbor, a jagerbar he had only met at the trial of Diana Rabe. Colbert had saved his life.

“What happened to the schakal body?” he asked.

“Dad said the Colberts took care of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he said you should stay inside. T.B. is coming over and we’ll be here,” Barry rushed on. “Jason’s coming home this weekend, too.”

Nick raised a hand, stopping the flow of words. “I don’t need bodyguards.”

“Oh hell yeah, you do!” Monroe blurted. “A lot of them. Unless they finally take the hint and leave. Three out of three? Even the densest wesen knows the odds of number four actually making it any further. Word’s spreading fast and this last botched attempt will get out.”

Nick groaned.

“Stay here, Nick. Seriously. You said it yourself that Renard should be back in Portland soon. Maybe this was like a parting shot. Anyone attempting anything now will have a pissed-off guardian at their throats. Not funny, man.”

“Okay, okay, I’m staying, but no protection detail!”

Barry and Monroe exchanged looks that Nick didn’t like. He snarled something uncomplimentary and stalked over to the entertainment center. He plopped himself down on the leather couch and switched on the TV.

 

Barry received several pictures not much later. A mug shot of the schakal – lots of blood, Nick noticed with a strange kind of detachment – and several of the tattoos on the dead man’s body. He would have to look into this. Maybe he could find out who the man had been.

* * *

Frank came home from a brief stint at court to find his son devouring a large stack of cookies while doing homework at the kitchen breakfast bar. A glass of milk sat next to a tin that contained more cookies from the smell of it. It wasn’t a tin Frank was familiar with. T.B. Colbert was at the kitchen table, apparently deep in his homework assignment as well. Next to him was a plate with a half-eaten piece of apple tart.

Frank’s eyes fell on what else was in his kitchen.

Baskets of fruit. Pies. Homemade bread. Vegetables, obviously homegrown, too. There were casseroles, shepherd’s pies, stews, lasagnas and soups. Food and food and more food.

“What…?” he managed.

Barry gave him a wide grin, cookie crumbs on his chin. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey, Mr. Rabe,” T.B. greeted him.

“Where did this all come from?”

“Nick’s eisbiber friends.”

Frank gaped, for the first time in a very long time actually stumped. Nick had been with them for no more than a day, most of that time asleep or unconscious. Sure, Monroe had received calls from Nick’s friends, had calmed them down and told them the Grimm was fine. But had he given Nick’s current address to anyone?

“Relax, dad. Monroe carted all of that over here. Guy named Bud made him, apparently.”

Frank took in the mountains of edibles.

“Where’s Nick?” he finally asked.

“Making more calls. He dozed off when you left and woke when Monroe came. Looks like he got a quilted blanket, too.” Barry grinned as he shoved another cookie into his mouth with a delighted smile. “Man, those are so good! You have to try one. Oh, and he wasn’t happy about the schakal incident.”

Frank sighed. “No one was.” He looked over at T.B. “Thanks for your help, T.B.”

“No sweat.”

“It was a big deal. You didn’t have to do it.”

T.B. shrugged. “We kinda did. The Grimm isn’t bad. Barry told me a few things and I talked to him. He’s a nice guy. He could have killed Jason and Barry and me. He didn’t. I think I owe him for that.”

Frank couldn’t fault the teen’s logic and the bear in him was quite pleased that another threat had been annihilated. He took a cookie from the tin beside Barry, feeling the chocolaty goodness melt in his mouth. He grinned at his son and took a second one, then walked over into the living room. He found Nick on the couch. The blanket had Barry mentioned was next to him. Clearly handmade as well.

Nick looked up and gave the jagerbar a smile and a nod. 

“Yeah, thanks, Hank,” he said into the phone. “See you tomorrow.”

“You’ve got generous friends,” Frank remarked, brandishing the cookie before he ate it.

“Tell me about it. You have no idea what I went through when I first ran into Bud. I had pile of food and handmade blankets.”

“Good food, according to the bottomless pit that is my growing son.” Frank sat down beside him. 

“I think he’ll go through the pile in no time,” Nick teased.

“Most likely.”

“I could ask Bud for a refill.”

“Don’t you dare. How are you feeling?”

“Still like a nuckelavee doormat, but better. Thanks.”

“Seems like all those old stories are true: Grimms are hard to kill.”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. Or we’re just harder to keep down.”

“Or that. I’ll be home for the rest of the day. I have a mountain of paperwork.”

Nick’s eyes looked suddenly a little sharper. “More protection detail?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

Frank didn’t react to it. He simply met the gray eyes, the Grimm lurking beneath the façade. 

“No. My son and T.B. are your protection detail. I simply chose to exchange my office in the city for my office at home. More quiet.”

For a long moment the Grimm was still there, then Nick deflated a little. “I hope this is over soon.”

“It’ll never be over, Nick. You’re a Grimm, which makes you a target. What will hopefully change is the succession of assassins on your doorstep.”

That got him a grimace, but the smile lurking within had Frank smile as well. The lawyer rose and went back into the kitchen. He found Barry had all but cleared the last cookies out of the tin and was giving the blueberry pie speculative looks. 

“Leave some room for dinner.”

Barry grimaced, but he returned to homework. Frank put away the two pies, then walked into his office to start his paperwork.

* * *

Nick had to go to work the next day. Calling in sick was not an option, even though Frank’s expression was misgiving. The jagerbar had insisted to change the bandages around Nick’s mistreated ribs and by now the bruises were in full bloom. It looked nasty, it felt sore, and Nick knew that it could have been so much worse, so colorful skin wasn’t really that bad. The bandages helped and so he let Frank do.

“Think about it,” Frank simply said when the Grimm pulled on his shirt.

“Thanks, but no. I’ve done this before, Frank.”

The lawyer’s expression was dark and knowing. “It might not be over and you are still a target.”

“Like I said: I’ve done this before.” Nick gave him a quick smile and grabbed his badge and gun.

He couldn’t tag along with Frank to work and he wouldn’t. He wasn’t weak, he wasn’t a rookie anymore, and he sure as hell wouldn’t spend his time bored to death hanging around Monroe’s or Rosalee’s.

So work it was.

*

Hank took one look at him and pulled the Grimm aside. “What happened, man?”

Nick knew he didn’t look all too bad. The bruises were hidden underneath make-up Rosalee had applied. It looked like natural skin and it was something she had concocted and smeared onto his face. It felt natural, too. Hank couldn’t see the injuries, but he knew what had happened because Monroe had called to let him know that Nick might to take it a little easy.

He hadn’t gone into detail, though.

“Little run-in with an unsavory element.”

“Police business?”

“In a very remote way, yeah.”

Hank scowled, then glanced around. “Monroe said something. What happened?”

So Nick told him the very much abbreviated version of events and Hank’s expression turned even darker.

“This happen before like that?”

“That someone thinks he can take out a Grimm? Yes. But twice in such a short time? No. Last time I handled it and that problem was solved. Never heard from those particular thorns in my side again.”

Hank studied him. “So this is new.”

“Yes.”

“Because Renard left town.”

“Probably. But he’s on his way back. Apparently the business is settled.”

Hank shot him a quizzical look.

“I talked to his sister.”

“How is she?”

“Fine. I didn’t get a lot out of her, but they are resilient.”

“So fine could mean a bullet hole and a knife sticking out of her hip?”

It was only half a joke, but Nick grinned. “Yeah, probably.”

“We do have a lot of paperwork to catch up to,” Griffin smoothly changed topics as someone walked past.

Nick groaned. He knew it was the best option right now, let himself recover and regain his strength, but paperwork usually killed his brain.

Hank pushed a small mountain of folders at him. “Have fun.” He winked.

Nick gave him the evil eye.

At least the deskjob gave him the time to run the pictures.

 

tbc...


	12. Chapter 12

The call came the next morning and Nick groaned at the early hour as he groped blindly for the vibrating cell. He blinked at the caller ID, then pushed the connect button.

“Burkhardt… Whoa, Gary, slow down… what?.... when?! Is she alright? Are you…?” He listened intently, then a broad smile blossomed on his lips and all tiredness was suddenly gone.

“Congratulations! Yes, I’ll let the others know. Thank you for calling, Gary. Now go back to your wife and baby… yes….yes… of course. I’ll see you all later.”

Nick chuckled as he sat back and shook his head. Zoe had finally gone into labor and given birth an hour ago. A girl. Gary had been beside himself and if Nick was any judge, it would probably start a new wave of hoarding for the baby. 

Well, he would swing by the hospital later. Right now he needed a shower, a shave and a lot of coffee. And he would let Frank know about the baby. 

 

The jagerbar pushed a coffee into his hands as he descended the stairs. He wasn’t in his suit and dress shirt this morning, looking more like he would spend the day at home.

“It’s Saturday, Nick,” Frank reminded him.

Damn, the latest events had really screwed with his sense of time. Nick drank half the coffee, waiting for the caffeine to kick in.

“You on duty today?”

“Nope. Luckily.”

“Good.”

“But I’ve a few errands to run today.”

Frank looked up from his newspaper.

“Zoe’s baby came last night. Gary called. I want to go to the hospital to see her.”

“I can take you.”

Nick refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Or Barry. He has classes today.” Frank quirked a smile. “No detention if you’re thinking about it. Or any other kind of punishment. He took on another course and today they’re having a study day for upcoming exams.” Pride spoke from the lawyer. 

“He’ll ace it,” Nick agreed to the unspoken addition.

The dark eyes glowed with renewed, parental pride. Yes, Barry had grown from the teenager who had nearly killed two people. He was looking into different options, maybe even law. Frank wasn’t pressuring him into any choice, but he supported him whatever Barry would choose.

 

So it was Barry who drove him to the hospital in the end, dropping the Grimm off at the main entrance.

“I can find my own way back,” Nick reassured him.

Barry shook his head. “You know that’s not gonna work. If you weren’t so stubborn I’d stay here.”

Nick gave him raised eyebrows and the young jagerbar met his expression with fierce determination. The close call on his own territory had shaken he teen up and he had developed more than just a protective streak; it was as if he had made Nick’s safety his personal goal. 

“Call one of us. Dad’s home. He can pick you up. Or the Colberts. Jason’s home, as is Janet. T.B. and I are studying.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m not the damsel in distress, Barry.”

The younger man’s face was suddenly serious. “We all know that. We know you’re a Grimm and believe me, I’m not going to forget that any time soon. Your vibes…” He stopped, looking apologetic.

Nick remembered that moment when he had realized what scared the jagerbar about him and he knew the fear of the Grimm was deeply ingrained, even in his allies.

“But someone’s seriously after you and the Guardian isn’t here. We worry. This isn’t just about you. It’s about all of us, Nick.”

Nick looked at him, then finally nodded. “I’ll call,” he said quietly, understanding where Barry and everyone else came from. “I promise.”

Barry smiled, then headed for his school.

*

While Zoe looked a little tired, she was smiling so widely and happily, Nick was sure she would be back to her fierce and feisty and energetic self in another day. Before meeting her, Nick had only come into contact with one other maushertz and that had ended tragically. It had also made him belief maushertz were shy, skittish and tried not to engage in any form of confrontation.

Until Zoe.

She was the complete opposite from Marty Burgess and even though she had sometimes stepped back just a little, hadn’t been as aggressive as another kind of wesen might have been, she really wasn’t your typical maushertz. Gary was more a representative of his kind, but he was learning from his wife and he had developed more of a backbone in the months a Grimm had moved into their street.

If their daughter would come after her mother, Gary would be in for a whole lot to handle.

Nick smiled.

“Congratulations, Zoe. She looks beautiful,” he congratulated the new mother. 

He had bought a stuffed giraffe, which had looked almost too cute, and it now sat with a stuffed elephant and a weird little something that could be anything from a bird to a reptile to a fantasy creature. 

The baby was asleep.

“We decided on a name,” Zoe told him, smiling warmly, proudly, as she tugged at the pink blanket the little girl was wrapped in. “It was a unanimous decision.”

“O-kay,” Nick said slowly.

“Nick Burkhardt, meet Penelope Nicole.”

He blinked. 

“Penny, meet Nick Burkhardt, the Grimm and your namesake.”

The baby slept on.

Zoe beamed at him. 

“Uh… I’m honored?”

She laughed. “I hope you are. And I hope you’ll say yes when I ask you to be my daughter’s godfather, Nick.”

That kinda floored him. Well, truly floored him.

“Zoe, I… you know I’m a Grimm, right?”

“Of course.” She gave him a look that said ‘Duh, stupid’ in very clear words. “That has nothing at all to do with my request. You’re a friend of my family and I trust you. Gary and I talked about it and he actually came up with the idea first.”

“Really?” Nick raised skeptical eyebrows.

“Really. It was on my mind, too, actually, and it shows how well he knows me. Will you accept?”

“Zoe, I’m honored, but… being a Grimm makes me a danger to you already. You openly allied yourself with me and it makes you a possibly target of those who want to see me dead or worse.”

Her expression became steely and her features shifted into those of her true nature. “I know what this means, Grimm. I know what it will give my family and what it might take from them. Like I said, Gary and I agreed on it. We want you as our daughter’s guardian.”

He slowly inhaled and then let the air flow out again. “Then I accept, Zoe.”

Her façade was back in place and she smiled happily. “Thank you, Nick!”

He looked at his sleeping goddaughter, Penny, and smiled back.

* * *

While he was out and about, Nick went by his place just to check on his house. He took a cab and yes, he was going to get an earful from Monroe or Frank because of it, but he didn’t believe anyone was trailing him. After his latest confrontation with a wesen killer out for his blood, the Grimm trusted in the very active grapevine to have spread the word. A mauvais dentes and a nuckelavee. The whispers would be fearful and in warning.

He walked inside his house and nearly ran into John Oblinger, one of the eisbiber. The man almost lost his façade, eyes wide, mouth open, the shift unmistakable for a second. He was holding a glass of water and what looked like a muffin, which he dropped ont the floor, the glass nearly following.

“Whoa, John, it’s just me,” Nick called, making a grab for the glass.

“Uh, I, Budgavemethekeys!” John blurted.

“Relax,” Nick calmed him, using his talking-to-family-and-victims voice. “It’s okay. I only came to see if I needed anything.”

John nodded, still looking scared. “I’m not sleeping here! Not in your bed! I have a bedroll and a blanket! We’re keeping an eye on things,” he rushed out. “Bud comes by, too. He made a roster!”

A roster! He had an eisbiber security detail! Nick was hard pressed no to laugh. He was so thankful for the help of his friends, even if some went above and beyond. The eisbiber were like that. 

“Let me just grab a few fresh clothes and then I’m back in protective custody,” he joked.

John trailed him, wringing his hands a little. “You don’t mind us being here? We’re not doing anything, really. Just… uh… I’ll pay for incidental expenses! Gas and electricity, even cable!”

“John. John, relax!” Nick interrupted, trying to get a word in. “No one pays for anything. I’m glad you’re doing this while you don’t have to. You all have families and they want you home. You can leave. Nothing will happen to my house.”

The eisbiber straightened, squaring his shoulders. A determined expression chased away the prior insecurities. “I’m not leaving. Nor is any of us. We don’t fight, so we help in other ways.”

Nick fought down the wave of emotions those words evoked. “Thanks,” he managed instead. “Tell the others, please. I’m very thankful.”

John nodded, then gestured at the hallway. “I’ll be… uhm, outside. Let you pack.”

Nick grinned and watched him go, then started on pulling out clothes he might need until this was over. Frank had been quite clear that there was no deadline on this rooming-in. Nick needed to heal somewhere no one would look for him right away.

Well, he mused as he stuffed socks into the bag, he would go with the flow for now.

* * *

Going with the flow became a cagey feeling after forty-eight hours with the Rabes. Not that the house was too small for three men to share; quite the opposite. It also wasn’t like Frank or Barry constantly hung around him; Nick was mostly alone anyway.

It was the simple fact that he wasn’t in his own home, that he was a guest here, that it felt like he was truly unable to take care of himself. 

Nothing else had happened. No one had made an attempt on his life, no wesen had staked out the Rabes’ property. It seemed that three attempts had been what it took to discourage whoever had hired the assassins in the first place. 

Not that Nick minded; he was tired of playing punching ball.

There had been little to nothing on the pictures. A name had popped up: Akira Kimura. He was from Japan, there was a paper trail on his arrival, but nothing much else. Now his body was buried who knew where after he had unsuccessfully tried to assassinated Nick.

Frank was very patient when it came to Nick’s decreasing mood. Barry just shot him a look that clearly said ‘Dude, chill!’ and Nick stayed late in the precinct for those two days. 

Hank gave him a sympathetic look. He knew about the changed living arrangements and the why. He had also agreed with everyone else that Nick was probably safest there.

One more night, Nick swore himself. Then he would go back to his own place, guardians be damned.

He almost laughed at that. Guardians. He would have to write a whole new book for future Grimms to read on protective wesen and their willingness to keep a Grimm alive, whatever it took.

Yeah, it would probably go down in the annals of history as fiction and fantasy.

*

The day had passed into early afternoon. The light streaming through the windows was warm and lit up the various fitness and exercise equipment. It was usually a place Barry used to keep fit and Nick had taken the young jagerbar up on his offer to use the room if he wanted to.

Dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, knuckles and hands wrapped with protective bandages, Nick attacked the sand-filled bag. Pummeling the bag, the Grimm tried to concentrate only on his moves, shutting out the world, ignoring all that was trying to distract him. 

Including the continued absence of Sean Renard.

The bag received another hard punch and Nick gritted his teeth. 

_Don’t think about it. He’ll be back. Mireille said so._

Several more blows rained down on the innocent leather. 

_Block everything. Don’t let it get to you._

Good advice, but the problem was that it had already gotten to him.

Nick would never have believed that the absence of the Guardian, his mate, his captain at work, would influence him like that. Just a week and he was having a breakdown!

Well, not a breakdown as such. He was feeling unbalanced, like he was missing part of himself, and he knew just what he was missing. And who.

The downside of a psychic link, Rosalee had theorized. It had brought them together, slowly, deliberately, and unstoppably. Now it was just as slowly making Nick feel its absence. He was on edge. He felt the Grimm’s bite inside him, that power that not only let him see wesen for who they were but also made him such a predator in their world. He could be a killer, he could justify whatever he did to himself if he let the darkness roam, but that wasn’t him. To become what he had to be, to be what he must become, he had to balance the killer instinct with what years of being a police officer had taught him.

He wasn’t like his ancestors.

He wasn’t Marie Kessler.

He wasn’t Kelly Burkhardt.

He was none of them an never would be!

He would never be what they expected them to be! Nick wasn’t walking in their steps, wasn’t picking up where they had left off. He was tired of the preconceptions, wanted to be who he was, not someone’s nightmare. 

Angry emotions rose and threatened to overwhelm his mind, pushing forth the Grimm.

Nick stopped, breathing harder than he wished he would. He stared at the swinging bag, then turned on his heels and walked out of the room. He pulled off the slightly soiled protective bandages and threw them into a waste basket. 

He could do this. He wasn’t an unbalanced psycho, on the edge of becoming some schizophrenic serial killer. He had worked being a cop and a Grimm and a friend to a blutbad in the beginning. Nothing had changed.

Nothing!

Staring into the mirror, meeting his eyes, he saw no madness, no killer, just himself. 

Yes, he could do that.

There was a careful knock and he saw Barry’s reflection in the mirror. The younger man was dressed in sweats.

“You wanna go run with us?” he asked casually, as if a Grimm running with a jagerbar was just completely normal.

Nick nodded without really thinking about it.

“We’ll pick up T.B. at his house and take the long way through the forest,” Barry explained as Nick changed into a fresh t-shirt and pulled on a jacket to keep out the cold. 

The weather had taken a turn to the more wintery side of autumn and heavy fog in the morning rarely lifted before noon. Right now it was still not completely clear outside and the sun was trying to filter through. The air was crisp and cool and Nick jammed a woollen hat onto his head. He added a pair of fingerless gloves, then nodded at Barry, who was in a similar outfit.

They began at a leisurely pace, heading toward the Colberts’ home, where T.B. was already waiting. He shot Nick a quick smile, then they were off.

Nick let his mind blank, let the repetitive motions soothe his turmoil, and when they hit the turning point he felt the weight he carried slide off. It was good to run.

* * *

His return to Portland, Oregon, was a quiet affair. No one noticed his arrival, like barely anyone had really seen him leave. If not for the necessity to make up a good cover for Captain Sean Renard, the regnant would simply have slipped away and dealt with what he had to do. 

His shields were tightly wrapped around him. Not even the smallest vibe of who and what he truly was slipped through. He passed different wesen, which he all recognized, but they never even gave him a second look. Renard smiled to himself. Those who glanced at him and let their eyes linger were the ones taking in the bruised appearances, but the small signs visible of the battle he had fought were nothing against what he had hidden underneath his clothes.

A cab dropped him off at his place.

Walking into his almost sterile, immaculately clean condo, the Guardian let himself adjust. His eyes were on his city, taking in the familiar buildings and landscapes.

He was back. This was his Protectorate, where he belonged, and he had missed it.

Like he had missed his mate.

Renard let his gaze wander through the cool, impersonal place. Nick hadn’t been here. He felt it. Everything was cold, not lived in, like an exhibition of furniture and paintings, of ancient artifacts and meaningless knick-knacks. The fridge was empty and clean, the freezer filled with a few necessary items. 

He left again, passing by the guard on the ground floor with a simple nod, and walked down the street. It might have seemed aimless, but for Renard it had a purpose. He reacquainted himself with his city. While regnants could easily leave their Protectorate, it wasn’t done like it had happened to him. Under the cover of darkness, with lies and deception of his mate, and leaving everything behind to possibly run out of control. There were rules, there were contingency plans, there was an emergency procedure.

None of that happened.

Because if it had looked planned, his plans would have been shot to hell. 

The Guardian felt the still present rage of what he had been dragged into rise. It was still whispering through him, simmering on a low flame, ready to unleash upon anyone stupid enough to rile him up. Too many loose ends needed tying. Too much was still out of his control. And on top of that… Nick. His mate. He needed to see him, make sure he was okay, even though the grapevine had spoken already. Renard knew he was alive.

A deep rumble came from his chest and scared a maushertz window-shopping nearby. The timid creature looked around, terrified, instinct warring with common sense. He couldn’t make out what Renard was, but the sense he got as the taller man passed by, the dread and terror, was enough to have him scurry inside. 

Renard couldn’t care less.

 

His not so random path through Portland finally had him circle back to his place. He took the car to his next destination.

 

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get as far as I had planned with writing out the scenes, so this is for today and if work lets me, I can post more tomorrow :)

Nick knew the precise moment his mate walked into the house, even though he couldn’t see or hear him. It was a sensation like no other, a prickle along his neck, a shiver racing down his spine, and the firm knowledge Sean had returned. The knowledge settled in him, calmed him as if he had just taken a sedative, and something deep inside him seemed to unwind, the fist in his stomach, that icy stone, finally dissolving.

For an insane moment Nick just wanted to stand there, close his eyes, let the calmness wash over him. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to talk. He simply wanted to feel.

He put the can of soda down and walked into the living room of the Rabes’ home, eyes immediately on the tall figure that had appeared close to noiselessly. How he had managed to come into the house undetected was a mystery, since jagerbars were highly sensitive creatures, especially when it came to their territory. 

And the door had been locked, too.

Renard looked far from his usual, composed self. Sure, there was composure. There was a shield around him, unseen to the naked eye but felt by a bonded mate, and his features were schooled. No emotions, just the intense expression in eyes that were an unnaturally green color. Specks of gold whirled inside. His cheekbones were sharper, more pronounced, his whole features those of the predator bristling underneath.

Nick took in the black jacket hugging the lean figure, the dark gray t-shirt peeking out underneath, the black jeans, and the black boots. No suit, no tie, just ‘civvies’ and still he looked regal and imposing and commanding. He saw the cut running over Renard’s left hand, closed and red and scarring but recent. Some wesen healed fast and regnants were one of them. This could have happened the day before yesterday, could have gone all the way to the bone, and left nothing but this mark. Two butterfly bandages held together the cut over his right eye, and there was another cut over his left cheek bone. The bruise on the right side was already fading.

The Guardian was back, but he had fought a battle, maybe even won a war, and Nick knew that the aggression and primal bloodlust was still there, underneath the cool exterior, raging to come out. He could almost taste it, felt himself react to it, felt the emotions bounce back and forth.

Renard’s features took on an even harsher angle as he took in his mate. Fury shot across the psychic connection and Nick almost reeled back. He felt the rage, hot and heavy and like a lightning bolt, and he felt the beast roar in unmasked anger.

Because the Grimm looked like he had gone a few rounds as well.

Which he had.

Nick took it as a good sign that Sean had enough control to keep his human façade. The last he wanted was for a fully shifted regnant to tear apart the Rabes’ home.

Renard approached him lithely, like a predator on the hunt. He reached out and placed a hand against Nick’s chest, light and warm, then leaned down and brushed his lips against his mate’s temple as he usually did. A revering touch, a confirmation, and all he would do for now that they were not in either their homes.

Nick in turn slipped a hand around the other man’s waist, holding him close but not too close. The touch alone was electric. It felt like they hadn’t been with each other for months, even though it had been only days; two weeks. He felt the tension, the ready-to-break tension. The regnant wanted his mate, wanted him close, and right now he was denied that closeness. 

“You’re back?” Nick asked, voice even and more calm than he truly felt.

“Yes,” Renard said roughly. 

“Is it over?”

“For now.”

There were fine tremors running through his body, tremors that could be felt through the physical contact. The closer he came to Nick, the more his control frayed. Not just at the edges. There were cracks running through his shields and if they fell, the result wouldn’t be pretty. Not at all.

Nick looked up into those green-green eyes with their golden specks, smiling thinly. He felt it all, felt the bond straining against the control. He held on to his side, aware that all that stood between a full woge into the creature Renard truly was and his normal façade was the Grimm.

“You killed.”

“I made an example.”

“Of whom?”

Fangs peeked. The smile was almost terrible. Nick knew he should be afraid, but he wasn’t. He could handle his mate, even if he dropped the last pretense and changed. 

“Uh…” the uncertain voice interrupted their moment and a low growl rumbled through the Guardian’s chest. 

Golden-flecked eyes pinned the intruder and Nick felt the wave of primal force. He pushed against it, refusing to let it happen, refusing to let go and stand back as his mate became his imposing true self. Nick only ever had to take a hold of a fully woged regnant once and that had been high on adrenaline and pain. Against Maurice. Now was different and he wouldn’t let it go this far.

Nick turned and found Barry Rabe staring at them, empty chips bag in hand. For a predator himself he seemed to be a little clueless when it came to the very clear vibes currently running through the room. Even Nick, who was still learning himself, would have realized the danger level.

Then again, maybe the young jagerbar had been drawn here because of it.

“I… I’ll… Sorry!” Barry blurted, flushing a little while part of him was trying not to let the bear inside him react to the other predator.

Frank came up behind his son, a much calmer and more settled presence. He nodded at the Guardian, a silent greeting filled with respect. The lawyer was clearly aware of what was going on, of how tense the situation was, and he was trying to diffuse it. Nick knew that only a lot of distance could do that.

“Barry,” Frank only said silently, giving his son a little push.

The younger Rabe quickly took the hint and left, followed by his father. And yes, maybe it looked a bit like he was running away, but no one cared.

“We leave,” Renard said levelly.

“We talk,” Nick insisted.

“At home.”

And that meant Renard’s place, he knew. Right now the Guardian was pretty much walking a fine line and only his own home would be enough to calm him down, settle his nerves, lock up the creature that had apparently wiped out more than one opponent.

“I’m a guest here, Sean,” Nick said in a low, calm voice. “I’m not going to run out of here without a word of good-bye.”

The struggle over the psychic bond was starting to show and Nick tightened his hold, uncaring of the dangerous vibes rolling off his mate. Renard had never hurt him and he trusted him completely.

“You left me alone. You pushed me into this, _your highness_.” Renard bared his teeth briefly at the address. Nick went on unimpressed. “You came here, didn’t wait for me to go home on my own. My rules.”

The regnant looked far from happy. Actually, he looked ready to kill something. He forcefully quieted down. Composure slid back into place, the turmoil raging just underneath but out of sight, and Nick gave a brief nod. Then he turned to the Rabes.

“Thanks. For everything. It was more than I would have ever asked of you.”

Frank smiled, his eyes a bit more tight at the corners from the continued low-level threat of a Guardian so wired and spoiling for a fight.

“I know, Nick. But that’s what allies are for.”

Nick gave Barry a quick, warm smile. “See you around.”

And then they left, Sean hovering so close behind him, Nick nearly had him run into him when he stopped by the car. He turned, gray eyes meeting green, the warning clear.

“Sean.”

_Stop it or I’ll make you stop_ , was unspoken floating between them.

The regnant issued a challenge.

The golden flecks increased. 

The Grimm rose against the challenge and held it, issuing his own.

_Try me. Just try me. I’m pissed off enough._

The Guardian rumbled.

Nick didn’t waver.

It was like rubbing matter and anti-matter together, so close to an explosion without achieving one, so dangerous and yet still under waning and tedious control.

“In the car. Now!” Renard whispered harshly.

The battle of wills, happening right here, right now, once more, had Nick grit his teeth. He felt the pull at the bond, the downright invasion of his privacy through the psychic link, something that had happened only a handful of times before. And every single time he had fought back, had shown Sean that he was neither a submissive nor a subordinate. 

_You’re not my boss. Not right now. This is us, Grimm and Guardian. Tough for you._

This was the wesen in Renard and it wasn’t happy about his mate taking his time and arguing.

_Deal with it!_

He got into the car, but at his own pace, which seemed to test the boundaries of Renard’s control even more. He felt the bite of the link, felt the tenuous control his mate had over his own reactions, felt his own snarl back at the wesen. He wouldn’t give in and he had proven time and again that he was very much up to that particular challenge.

Gray eyes, flaring with emotions, met green that held more flecks of gold again. Renard was breathing hard, hands clenching and unclenching. If he just looked close enough, Nick imagined he might see the first signs of claws forming where human fingernails were.

Before he could buckle in Nick was pulled into a kiss, sloppy at best, with a hint of teeth, and he groaned into it. 

He was responding and it felt… incredible. It sparked something inside him that rarely ever erupted with such fire, something solely freed by Renard. Nick was way more aroused than he would ever confess and when that fanged mouth trailed over his neck and delivered a teasing bite that didn’t even break his skin, he was very hard pressed not to just surrender.

_Don’t you dare!_ he thought angrily, pulling back with a glare.

The unholy light in the now very much inhuman eyes told him otherwise. Renard was extremely close to breaking, letting go, and Nick knew it was a terrible idea. Not just because they might end up being arrested for public indecency, but because loss of control would bring out the full regnant. A regnant who had killed ruthlessly and still remembered the taste of blood. 

Yes, it would be a very bad idea to give in. Instead Nick forced his wavering control on his mate, pushed him back, stared into the furious eyes and fought. 

“Not like this,” he whispered harshly, the Grimm confronting the Guardian.

The snarl that answered his denial told Nick more than he wanted to know.

Sean was so close.

So very, very close.

Whatever had happened, whatever Renard had gone through and done, it was ready to be unleashed and he wasn’t very much inclined to stop it.

Nick knew it was up to him and he pulled on the leash, held the other side down, and bit back a curse.

But Renard was back in control. He inhaled sharply, hands clenching around the steering wheel. 

“Sean,” he said neutrally.

The green eyes narrowed.

Nick simply met that look. “Let’s go.”

If Sean drove a little more recklessly than normal, it wasn’t something Nick called him on. What surprised him was that they actually stopped in front of Nick’s home instead of the condo.

Renard killed the engine and fought not to lose himself in his primal instincts. Nick slowly got out and blinked at the speed with which the other man was there, at his side, so intense and sharp and pushing at his mind and his soul and…

“Stop it!” he hissed and tore out of the green gaze.

Renard closed his eyes, shuddering. “Nick, please…”

“You think you can control yourself long enough not to scandalize the neighborhood? I have a functioning neighborhood watch.”

Sean cocked his head and a smile teased over his lips. “I noticed.”

He probably had. Nick knew there were wesen, probably eisbiber, around and keeping watch. He unlocked the door, briefly standing in the hallway as if to sense for any intruder, but he didn’t get a feeling that anyone had taken guard duty so far again that they were inside his house.

Since Renard closed the door and locked it, it confirmed that thought.

The Guardian’s eyes glowed bright golden green in the dim hallway and Nick held the gaze without fear or pressure. Both just stared at each other, saying nothing, but what flowed between them was so much more than could be put into words. Nick let the bond hum between them, a confirmation that Renard was really back, that this wasn’t just a bad dream. Longing was thick between them, need and hunger and the magnetic pull was overwhelming. When those familiar lips brushed over his temple, Nick pulled closer.

A shiver raced through Sean’s body, translating into an answering shudder from Nick, and the need rose exponentially. Still the regnant had total control over himself, not going to woge, and Nick knew from past experience that only a few events could truly trigger a full reveal. Maurice Renard was one of those events.

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, a lot less frenzied or hard than he might have imagined, and strong hands stroked over Nick’s ribs, knowing and feeling the injuries there. He had healed, there were only bruises, but it was still a tender area and sensitive.

The kiss deepened and Nick clawed his fingers into the dark jacket of his mate, feeling arousal spike, but Sean made no move to continue the agonizing dance into the frenzied feeding one might have expected.

He pulled back.

Nick looked at him, open and offering, but the Guardian didn’t take the offer.

The Grimm’s brows lowered with confusion written over his smooth features.

Sean kissed him again, a lot softer, no longer so needy and primal in his approach, and Nick felt something twitter over the link. It was gentle and longing and completely opposed to the hard pull of before.

Green eyes gazed into gray.

Renard stepped back, a clear offer in his eyes.

Nick took it.

 

They ended up in bed. 

Not in a tangle of sweat and whispered pleas and moving bodies. Somehow that explosion of emotions wasn’t happening. There were emotions, deep and strong and overwhelming, but it was… different. It was a gentle exploration of bruises and cuts. A confirmation that the other was okay. A warm caress over sensitive areas. Sliding together to share body heat and listen to the other’s breath and heartbeat. It was nothing more and nothing less. Not ever less.

Within Nick's home, the tension and need had lessened, had turned into this. He felt his mate unwind, felt the weight of what had happened drop off his shoulders. When the door had locked, Sean had finally let go, had given in to something else. He needed to recover, he needed sleep and rest, and he needed Nick close by.

Nick found several indicators of what might have happened to Renard. There were claw marks on his lower back and a swipe of claws across his chest. Red and healing, the skin mending. There was a fading bruise, barely visible over the right side of his ribs. The little and his ring finger of the left hand were a bit stiff, but he could flex them, so Nick wondered if they had been broken. Regnants had a good recovery rate and Sean had been gone for a week.  
Nick smiled as Sean rested his head on his chest, eyes closed, sighing softly.

Sounding happy.

Relaxed.

He felt his balanced emotions over the bond. It was a knowledge he couldn’t put into words, but it was there. 

There would be time to talk, to explain, to get the full story out of him, but not now.

He carded his fingers into the longer-than-normal strands of the taller man’s hair, lightly scratching blunt fingernails over his scalp, and enjoyed the broad hands sliding over his hip, his thigh. 

Nick closed his eyes, letting himself doze off.

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

He woke to the sound of birds – apparently fighting over a good spot or food because they sounded loud and angry -- from the outside. The air was cool, the windows cracked open, and through the not completely closed curtains Nick saw heavy morning fog clinging to the trees. 

A quick glance at the bedside table told him that it was just about eight a.m. Someone moved at his side and he heard a soft grunt, then the welcome weight of an arm across his waist was removed. Renard rolled onto his back and Nick pushed himself up, gazing down at the other man.

Still bruised, still showing so many signs of his fights, but so much more relaxed than the night before.

“Good morning.”

Sean smiled, the slow, satisfied smile he always wore when he was immensely pleased with himself. He wrapped a hand around Nick’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. 

“Good morning.”

Nick answered the kiss and allowed Sean to pull him closer. Renard started to caress the firm muscles under the warm skin, playing along Nick’s sides, careful of the bruises and still sensitive ribs, and down the buttocks. Massaging his mate gently, he kissed his lips, his chin, the corners of his mouth. 

Nick let himself fall into the kiss, the contact, savoring every moment. He still had this weird sensation that it had been so much longer than the true passage of time. The psychic connection between them was calm and quiet, no longer the ready-to-snap wire that had strained against his control yesterday.

“Going to your place?” Nick asked.

“No.”

He felt surprise wash over him. So far he had figured that after last night they would move to the regnant’s own territory where Sean felt more in control. What he got over the bond was nothing but contentment; no spikes of tension that he wasn’t in his own apartment.

“This is home,” Renard whispered into his ear, placing a kiss underneath his lobe.

Nick’s shiver was both from the words, as well as from the teasing contact.

Home.

It was home.

Their home.

Not just Nick’s territory with Renard as a part of it. The connection to this place ran deep, he sensed through the link. Not in words, just in muted emotions, if they were emotions at all. 

“You are,” Sean added.

Gray eyes widened and Nick felt himself caught off guard. Renard smiled lazily, fingers still caressing underneath Nick’s t-shirt.

“Shower?” the Grimm finally offered, the only think he could think of.

“That sounds very tempting,” came the playful purr. “Let me think about it...”

Renard buried his fingers in the dark strands and pulled his mouth up to meet his lips. Nick answered the kiss, hungry for more, hungry for this man.

“Convinced,” Sean whispered when they parted.

Nick grinned and slid off the taller man. He suppressed a shudder as he gazed into the burning eyes, as he saw the fire that roared deep inside the powerful wesen his mate was.

“Then follow me.”

Renard didn’t have to be invited twice.

 

The first time was fast. Down and dirty, both men too wired to last long. It left Nick wanting more. It had Renard look down at him with a desire that burned everything else to shreds. The regnant had peeked through, but aside from the sharper features and the eyes, nothing much had changed.

 

The second time was slower.

Sean whispered his name, filled with longing, and something fluttered through Nick. Something strong and powerful. He followed the curve of the ribs to the flat stomach, soothing the fluttering muscles and caressing the strong thighs, enjoying the smooth, warm skin. He tenderly licked over the strong erection and he listened to each whisper of pleasure.

When Renard finally slid home into the tight, warm channel it was after a lengthy preparation that had Nick begging for him. This time they were looking at each other and gazing into the dilated, gray eyes, seeing the arousal and lust in there, Sean pushed in deep, murmuring his mate's name.

Nick pushed back, wanting more, and Renard leaned forward, capturing the flushed lips, kissing him deeply.

He drew it out, made it slow, enjoyed each response he got from a very responsive Grimm. When he finally sped up, nearing his second climax, Nick drew him down into a searing kiss that ended when he cried out his release. He was wrapped into strong arms, collapsing onto his mate and Nick whispered his name like it was a caress. Sean closed his eyes, enjoying the embrace, the closeness, the peace, and he listened to Nick’s heart quiet down, just like his own. 

A hand stroked over his back. "Sean?"

A whisper-breath, gentle and tender and filled with emotions.

He couldn’t answer, just kissed the younger man, let his emotions poor out. The intensity of what he felt was still going strong, his need to claim this man for him overwhelming. Nick’s expression told Renard that his mate was very much aware of it. 

Very much.

 

And the third time had Sean spill into Nick’s mouth as the Grimm sucked him off and pushed two fingers into him. 

This time the wesen was almost past the last barriers.

 

They lay together afterwards, Nick playing over the warm skin, listening to the soft breaths. The façade was back and in a way he mourned the loss of the fascinating creature the regnant was when seen in his full glory. Nick wondered if it was a new kink of him. Sean as his true self, fucking his brains out.

Damn.

He smiled, relaxed and completely sated despite the slivers of arousal. It wasn’t like they couldn’t have more fun later now that his mate was home.

Home.

Their home.

It was still on replay in his head, the simple words, the more complicated emotions. 

The apartment was a residence, the house was home.

In a way it touched something deeper than the sex ever could. It cemented what they were, what they had, what they meant together.

Nick smiled.

Home.

And he really would have to do laundry tomorrow.

* * *

The talk came.

Not in bed, lying close to one another, sharing caresses and kisses.

Not while sitting close and enjoying the sensation of another hard body next to him.

Not over breakfast and a lot of coffee.

It was an almost formal setting in the living room of Nick’s house. Sean had showered and shaved and dressed – and not left for his own place. Nick, equally cleaned up and dressed, had taken a seat on the couch, his mate across from him.

And they talked.

“How is Mireille?” Nick asked. It wasn’t really the first question on his mind, but an important one to ask of his mate nevertheless.

“I believe you already talked to her.”

“I want to know from you.”

“She is fine. She was injured, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“So what happened?”

It sounded casual, but it was anything but that.

Renard closed his eyes for a second, then his features were suddenly a bit more distant, like reliving another life.

“Matters had gotten intense lately. Politically as well as personally. The Families were far from happy about my rise into power. More power than before anyway,” he added with a cold smile. “You completed me in so many ways, brought with you alliances they had never anticipated, and suddenly I wasn’t simply a Guardian with a Grimm mate any more. I was a danger.”

Nick was silent, not interrupting.

“Then your mother came into the picture. A second Grimm in my Protectorate and I let her live. She killed and I let her live. She left Portland and I didn’t send an assassin after her. She went and proclaimed her loyalty to me, a second Grimm under my command. It hit them like a nuclear strike. What Kelly Burkhardt did and said undermined their efforts of consolidation, drove doubt into the minds of possible allies, and fractured treaties already in place. It’s unheard of that a Grimm would voluntarily ally with a regnant unless bound. I couldn’t be her partner; I was already yours.”

Nick felt his mind race. His mother had disappeared to who knew where and Sean had told him that she had openly sided with the Guardian of Portland. 

“It started with little things happening in my Protectorate. Then Mireille called, told me she had noticed changes in London, too. It was a surprise since she is simply my sister, not an ally or a mate. The Families should be aware that sibling or family bonds among regnants aren’t what they are used to.”

Nick smiled lop-sidedly. He had noticed right from the start. Siblings weren’t really close, nor had Sean ever talked to his parents or mentioned them a lot to Nick. Once a regnant was of age or had his own territory, family bonds were cut. They were fiercely protective and territorial, which suited them as Guardians, so even close family like that was seen as opposition or even an enemy. Nick had done his best to at least maintain a good relationship with Mireille since Maurice was a true ass. 

And in a way it had brought Sean and Mireille closer than their biological programming would have. 

Maybe that had endangered Mireille now.

Sean shook his head. “Not your fault, Nick.” Nick opened his mouth to protest, but the other man held up a hand. “It wasn’t. The Families used what they could to get me to either fall or bend to their will. I decided I would do what was necessary to show them I never would. Mireille agreed that we would play along with their schemes, draw them out into the open and then strike.”

“That’s why you left your Protectorate.”

The Guardian nodded, features more tense than before. Leaving Portland like that, without securing his territory, had been an inconceivable action to begin with and Nick would never had believed it possible, but Sean had done it out of necessity. He knew his mate had been away from his city before; he couldn’t always claim personal business or work. Sean wasn’t bound to Portland or the area. He simply made sure that his absence wouldn’t result in a wave of unsavory elements taking advantage. 

No one actually would dare. 

But this time it had been sudden, unexplained, and leaving a young Grimm to uphold the peace, so to speak. A Grimm who happened to be pursued by assassins.

“I had to, Nick. I couldn’t tell you because your knowledge might have shown. I couldn’t risk it. I apologize,” he said formally.

“I should say I’d kick your ass if you ever do it again, but it’s not like you can promise me that, right?”

The green eyes shadowed.

Nick hated politics.

“It had to be done. I had to make them believe I would go to England to find my missing sister, though a regnant wouldn’t react to such news, even if she had been kidnapped and held for ransom. It was a game we played and it played out well.”

“So Mireille let herself get caught?”

“She played victim and let them think she was weak.”

“And you pretended to care?”

“Yes.” Renard grimaced. “I do care. I don’t have to play that. No one in our family normally would have gone after the attackers. I let them believe that you influenced me, made me weak. And the plan worked.”

“The mauvais dentes and the nuckelavee were part of the plan?”

There was an almost guilty expression in Renard’s face. “I didn’t think they would send assassins of that breed.”

“Well, they did.”

“And you took care of them.” 

The pride was unmistakable. As was the hunger briefly flashing through the green depths. Nick knew that the Guardian was so closely connected to the Grimm that evidence of his battle prowess and his strength echoed back and truly turned Renard on. Right now the pride was the strongest emotion, the fierce knowledge that the mate was strong and capable and able to handle himself.

Nick smiled a little. “I took care of them with some help in the end.”

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have left.”

“You would have left because otherwise something even worse would have come this way,” the Grimm corrected him levelly.

Renard sighed and shook his head. “Maybe.”

“And the trail you left for me to find, the names and other information you had Adalind so conveniently put together, was nothing but a bluff, right?”

There was a slight widening of eyes, then the pride doubled.

“Detective,” Nick only said with a humorless smirk. “I got the shield not simply because of my looks.”

Renard chuckled. “You sure didn’t.”

“Hank and I ran the names. None of them gave us a clue. Even internationally.”

Renard raised one eyebrow at that. Nick shrugged.

“Hank has friends in places.”

“I see.”

“So you left the documents with Adalind, knowing I had no chance of figuring out what they were.”

“To keep you from following me,” Sean finished the sentence softly.

Nick scowled.

“You had to stay in Portland, Nick. It was important.”

“There would have been an easier way, you know? Talking. Just saying: Nick, stay in Portland.”

“Would you have listened?”

“If I had been told the truth, yes.”

Renard’s scowl matched his. Nick knew they were running around in circles again, but the whole matter gnawed at him, made him feel like his mate didn’t trust him as fully as he claimed he did. Sean had played a game, hoping that the outcome would be as it had been in the end, but he couldn’t have known. One wrong calculation in his theoretical math and everything might have gone to hell. 

“Who did you kill?” Nick asked bluntly. “And how many?”

“No one whose name would mean anything to you. Enough to make a point.”

“Or start a war?”

Sean smiled coldly, showing a little fang. Right now his control was still only theoretical and Nick knew that Captain Sean Renard would take a few more private days. He had to calm down, reassert his armor and shields, or he would risk losing control of his wesen side in public.

Not a good idea on the best of days.

“They wouldn’t want to tangle with me after that.”

“Politically.”

“At all.”

“Who was behind it?”

“His name is Anton Krung.”

“Is or was?”

“He’s still alive.”

“But missing a limb or two?”

Sean chuckled. “I don’t have to touch my opponent to cripple him, Grimm. I took care of his network and showed those siding with him or thinking about it that a Guardian is not to be trifled with. Krung is part of the Families and he has been consolidating powers, trying to force their hand against me. The Families might be a lot of things, but they aren’t stupid enough to risk a war with my kind. Touch one of us and there will be retaliation. And an assassination of me and my mate would bring them down.”

Nick digested that.

“They are trying to rise back to their old power and I’m in their way. Because my way isn’t the old way, Nick. It never was and never will be. Your way isn’t the way of your ancestors either. We are dangerous to them and I showed them that we aren’t defenseless. Your victory over both a mauvais dentes and a nuckelavee will get around, will warn off others.” Renard leaned forward. “You already sent your warnings in blood before we bonded. Now you only remade your point. Mireille and I did the rest.”

“And Maurice?”

Nick’s head was reeling and he really wished he could have a drink right now.

“He came out with a few ruffled feathers.” Sean quirked a smile. “But he’s powerful. Don’t let his attitude lead you astray. He’s just as deadly as any of us.”

“Oh, I never doubted that.”

“The blood on our hands has been warning enough.”

“How many heads did you send?”

Sean chuckled. “Enough. Some of them still attached to their bodies. Among them Royals. Like I said, we made our point.”

Nick rubbed a hand over his face. He knew he couldn’t look at this from a cop’s perspective, or even a human’s. This was a Grimm’s world and this was his life, his involvement in matters that would have been pure fantasy not too long ago.

Renard was suddenly there, right next to him, reflecting a lot of his true self through his still human features. His expression was fierce and filled with emotions that spoke of protectiveness and need and hunger and so much more. So many softer emotions, so many…

Nick surged forward and kissed him, hard and hungry and needy, a dam bursting inside him that had been holding back more than he had thought possible. The Grimm came forward with him, taking what he had claimed as his, what he would defend just like Renard had defended him and his Protectorate. 

There was a surprised noise from his mate, then the other man got with the program and a deep rumble told Nick that he might not be walking quite normally tomorrow.

 

He should be so right.

 

Sean moved slowly, withdrawing a bit, then pushing in again. He set an almost agonizingly slow rhythm and Nick easily fell into it. He panted, pushing his hips at him every time he went in deep. His body was tumbling toward release at an incredible pace.

Looking at Sean’s face he knew his mate was solely fixed on him. His sexual tension was only now finding release and he wouldn't be able to last. His moves became deeper, harder, and Nick gasped softly, pleasure coursing through him like liquid fire. 

And then he exploded. It was the most violent orgasm he had ever had and he heard a hoarse cry from Sean as he came as well, sinking fully developed fangs into his already sore shoulder, but Nick couldn’t feel any pain.

Just pleasure.

Intense and more than just physical. The psychic link sang with it, deeper than ever, pushing past natural barriers and into their very souls.

The regnant moved a few more times, then almost collapsed on top of the Grimm, breathing hard, skin covered with sweat. He licked at the barely bleeding wound, tasting his mate’s blood, and Nick felt his pleasure, that animalistic, raw pleasure of the Grimm’s blood as his to taste.

 

"I love you," Sean whispered into his ear, voice ragged. "I love you, Nick."

 

And damn, it had been hot.

 

tbc...


	15. Chapter 15

Adalind hadn’t been aware of just how tense she had been the past weeks. With the sudden disappearance of Renard she and her sisters had been thrown into the same chaos as the Grimm and the other wesen in the Protectorate. She had seen the careful glances of the criminal element, had heard the murmurs, the speculations, that maybe Portland was no longer under a regnant’s rule. The hexenbiester had taken care of that, but it had been tedious and hard and dangerous work.

The amount of money suddenly in their accounts told them that Renard was honoring their work. Tempe and Lillian had looked a lot more relaxed now, too. Yes, matters were slowly returning to normal.

Adalind had yet to see Renard in person, but she had a pretty good idea where he was and what he was most likely doing. It sent a little forbidden thrill through her. She was only a woman and she knew the connection between those two was strong. She had seen the energy, had felt the strength of it. Hexenbiester were… sensitive in that regard. She could almost taste the sexual tension between those two before they had truly bonded and knowing her regnant – and having a very vivid imagination – Adalind didn’t need the live feed to know.

A smile crossed her lips. Yes, Renard was most likely busy with more… pressing matters.

She wouldn’t have said no to a live feed, though. It would probably blow her mind.

Tempe stuck her head into her office and caught the expression. She grinned.

“You better wipe those thoughts from your mind, sister. He wouldn’t be pleased.”

She scoffed. “He probably knows.”

Not like she hadn’t entertained notions of becoming closer to Renard herself. She knew what he failed to truly hide underneath he dress shirts and suits.

“Probably. Call it a night. Lillian and I are heading over to the Zoo. Want to come?”

The Zoo, officially known as the Copper Kettle, was a watering hole for all kinds of wesen. It was a kind of neutral ground Adalind enjoyed. Everyone called it the Zoo because of the mixed clientele.

“Coming,” she agreed and powered down her computer.

With a last, lingering thought about the two men now reunited, she headed after Tempe.

* * *

“So you think I’m a viable replacement for you?”

Sean looked up from the delivery Italian they had ordered. He had just started with the potato focaccia with caramelized onion, black olives and rosemary. It wasn’t something Nick preferred when ordering Italian, but his mate had a very fine cuisine taste sometimes. Then, on other days, a greasy pizza from Luigi was enough.

“Why shouldn’t you be?”

“I’m a Grimm, Sean!”

The smile was downright amused. “I noticed.”

“I’m not a regnant, just a Grimm. I can’t a regnant.”

“You weren’t replacing the regnant, only me.”

Nick scowled. “There’s a difference?”

“Yes. I’m more than just a powerful wesen. I keep this city safe. Just like you.”

“I’m not going to replace you, Sean. Ever again.”

Renard wiped his hands on a napkin and leaned back. “You are my mate, Nick. You have the same authority and power, maybe even more so because you are also the Grimm. I needed you to uphold the balance in the Protectorate and you did.”

“A warning would have been nice.”

Yes, he might be petty, still holding on to that, but it irked him.

Sean reached out and curled two fingers into the waistband of Nick’s jeans, pulling him close.

“We went over this already.”

Nick glared at him.

“Nick,” was the soft murmur.

He leaned down and caught Sean’s lips, sliding his hands through the short hair, feeling Renard’s arms slide around his waist to keep him there. Nick bit his lower lip before pulling back, drawing a rumble from his mate.

“Sound argument,” Renard murmured. “But you’re not getting out of that duty.”

“I know my duties. I know our deal. You tell me about what’s going on, no matter what. Stick to that.”

Sean surged up a little, catching his lips. “I will. This won’t happen again.”

“Until something slightly different happens?”

“Hm, maybe?”

“I hate politics.”

“I noticed.”

Nick pulled back. Renard didn’t let him go.

“I need you, Nick,” he said softly, seriously. “More than you can ever understand. What happened was… something outside my control. I had to act. Against my own nature.”

Nick leaned down and brushed his lips over Sean’s temple. “I know.”

Renard’s shuddered. His eyes closed briefly and his hold on Nick tightened. He buried his face against the other man’s stomach.

“The next time we stand up together, Sean,” Nick said firmly. “No rogue mission, no missing Guardian and his sister, no surprises.”

Renard raised his eyes. “Agreed.”

“Because this isn’t just about you; it’s about us. What’s coming for you, is coming for me.”

He smiled. “Together,” he only repeated.

Nick leaned down and kissed his again and the larger hands on his back slid down to cup his ass, squeezing gently. When Sean leaned back, without breaking the kiss and guiding Nick gently along, the Grimm ended up straddling his mate.

It was a nice position.

Really nice.

And what happened then was even nicer.

* * *

Nick sat in the silence and loneliness of a small park, gazing at the dark sky where a few stars were out. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud cover that was unlikely to break within the next few hours. It was a quite unspectacular night and except for the occasional sound from the near-by street, there was nothing else. No crickets, no dogs barking or cats fighting. Only him.

Bundled up in a warm coat, hands covered by gloves, and a woolen scarf keeping the cold at bay, Nick let the calmness of the moment touch him.

Renard was gone, back to his apartment to check things out there, and Nick had let him go alone. He wasn’t needed there. Right now he needed some time to think without the overpowering presence of the other man.

The sex had been incredible. It had been intense and pleasurable and like an explosion between them. The bond was still reverberating with those echoes. Nick had no words for what was between them, this force and depth to their connection that had only ever increased since the first time Nick had consciously accepted it. Their energies were far off the scale, he had realized when he had looked into the eyes of his mate. Sean had been just as stunned, as hungry and powerless against the pull of what they shared, and he had given in to instinct and the Grimm, just like the Grimm had surrendered to him.

Nick shifted and felt a pleasurable sting, reminding him that yes, he would be feeling their reconnection for a while. Just like Sean would. It wasn’t often that they switched, but it happened, and it had nothing to do with power or submission. It was simply a matter of preference. Nick had quickly learned that it he had to attach labels, the Grimm was the one more often in control than the regnant.

Huh, figure that, he mused. Sean Renard was a powerful man, but one man he had never had any power over had been Nick Burkhardt. At least outside the chain of command at the precinct. Nick would never interfere in that regard. But as a Grimm he wasn’t subject to the regnant. He was an equal and he knew how to handle himself.

His thoughts abruptly turned to the reason for their ferocious encounter.

Sean had gone and confronted the Families his way, had made a statement as he had said, and he had killed. Most of them Royals, he had told Nick. One of them a woman who had been Krung’s right hand. Mia, he had called her.

“You know who she is,” Nick stated.

Renard smiled a little, that knowing smirk that told Nick that yes, he knew all about that woman.

“Mia Gaudot. Power-hungry blonde asset of a cousin of Krung’s. But not any more.”

She had been the one pulling the strings when it came to sending assassins after the Grimm, using a middle man in Portland who had brought the man in under the radar, and the Guardian hadn’t taken kindly to that at all.

Nick knew what it meant. The Grimm had sent back the heads of the two reapers sent to kill him. Renard had done the same in his own style.

Portland was safe again. The Protectorate was back under Renard’s control and the Families would stay out of it or risk something even worse than what had already happened. Right now the matter was handled as an ‘incident’. It would very well become more and a lot worse. Sean had shown them that he was very well able to hand over the reins to his mate, go after a threat, and eliminate it. Nick, despite having no clue at all what he was doing, had instinctively done the right thing.

Inhaling the cool night air, enjoying the rare peace, Nick smiled a little to himself.

His phone rang and he raised an eyebrow. Still, he answered it.

“Burkhard.”

“Detective. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Nick smiled. “No, Nadine, you’re not. Everything okay?”

A light chuckle was the answer. “Yes, we are very much alright. I appreciate your concern.”

“Maurice?”

“Recovering. And very busy.”

“Good to hear.”

And Nick meant it. He wouldn’t wish Sean’s brother any harm. He simply disliked his personality, and that only because of his first impression on Nick. And there was never a second time to leave a good first impression, the saying went.

“I take it Sean has returned as well?”

“Yeah, he’s back. And okay.”

Another light chuckle. “I wish you luck, detective.”

“Same to you. And even if he might not believe me, tell Maurice I’m glad he’s fine.”

“He doesn’t hold a grudge, Grimm. He also doesn’t see it as a wrong he did.”

“Yeah, probably. Tradition, hm?”

Nadine sounded amused. “Tradition.”

Nick said his good-byes and studied the dark display of his phone, then shook his head with a smile. Yeah, tradition.

* * *

The office lights were still on, even though it was way past normal office hours. Renard moved soundlessly, a shadow that barely anyone noticed. The cleaning personnel hadn’t arrived yet and the few stragglers who were wrapping up work were too busy. He pushed open the glass doors on the tenth floor of the skyscraper that led to the stylish, expensively understated reception of the law firm. Frank Rabe looked up, very much aware of the predator moving in. Renard had consciously dropped a part of his shields as not to startle the lawyer.

The two men looked at one another, Rabe not the least bit submissive or inclined to give his respects to the Guardian. He didn’t appear confrontational, just wary with a dose of tension. Renard felt no threat from the jagerbar and he didn’t need overtures of respect. What Frank had done in the past had shown him just how loyal the man was, to Nick and through the Grimm to the regnant.

“Office hours are tomorrow from nine to five,” the lawyer said.

Renard twitched a smile. “I came to thank you for your help.”

“Nick is my friend.”

Which was a clear and simple statement. It told more than any other explanation. Nick was a friend and the friend had been in need of help. Frank had given it, even putting himself and his family in danger.

“I didn’t expect matters to spiral this much out of control,” Renard said evenly. “I didn’t believe them to be so forward as to send three assassins after a regnant’s mate.”

“But you expected one.”

Very perceptive. He smiled humorlessly. Of course he had expected the Families to use his absence to do something, but Sean hadn’t thought it would be so excessive. He hadn’t thought they wouldn’t give up. He hadn’t lost a night’s sleep over the safety of his Grimm.

“Nick has handled himself in the past. I trust him. I know his abilities.”

“A mauvais dentes? A nuckelavee? The schakal was almost a let-down.” The dark eyes of the jagerbar were coldly criticizing. “You expected a young Grimm who hadn’t come into his heritage until just lately to handle himself against such threats? Mauvais dentes have a reputation that isn’t simply lore and campfire tales. They are brutal killing machines.”

Renard inclined his head. “I made a mistake, but it had to be done.”

And after he had finally heard about what had happened in his Protectorate he would nearly have gone after the Families again. This time there wouldn’t have been a warning, just blood.

“So it’s over?”

“For now.”

Rabe snorted. The brown eyes flashed with something that was almost primal. Renard made no mistake thinking that the man was soft or weak because of his chosen profession. He was a predator and his instincts were right on spot.

“The Families have been warned in the past. It was time to show them how serious I am, especially when more than one Protectorate is threatened. They don’t want a war between their muddled blood and my kind. It’s over.”

Frank studied him silently, then, after a long minute, nodded. “Give your mate a fair warning the next time you go off on a mission,” he said coolly. “Nick had no idea how unbalanced his Grimm side might become because of everything you left him with. He can easily be a Grimm and a cop -- but also your replacement? He didn’t know what was happening. He was dangerous, Renard.”

“I realize that.”

“Good.”

Renard had to accept the guts the lawyer had and it made him proud and confident that Nick had such strong allies.

And he understood he had made mistakes. He freely admitted to that. Leaving Nick to fend for himself with no warning, heaping the responsibilities of his Protectorate on his shoulders, and the fact that assassins had come for his blood had sent the Grimm in a downward spiral and his primal side had pushed forward. Sean knew how dangerous an unleashed Grimm could be. He knew everything about the Grimm lineage and he knew that left to that darkness inside with no one to pull him out of his descent, Nick could very well have become the nightmare wesen knew existed out there. Some Grimms had given in and they had made it into the horror tales wesen told their children at night, the Albträume for Wesenkinder. Renard knew the book and he knew it was based on true facts.

Marie Kessler and Kelly Burkhardt had been dangerous Grimms, ruthless and cold and merciless, but they hadn’t become the monster of old. They hadn’t dressed in cloaks, worn masks and branded their victims. They had ended their hunts quickly, cleanly, with a beheaded corpse as the result.

“He would have to break the psychic link to become what you are referring to,” Renard finally said.

“Maybe. He doesn’t have to become an Endezeichen Grimm to accidentally kill one of us.”

So Rabe knew about the splinter group, too.

“He’s very much aware of what happened, Renard. I think of it as a shock to his system. A good shock. I hope for Portland that you won’t have to repeat what you did.”

“So do I. For the Royal Families.” He smiled maliciously.

The jagerbar chuckled, his predator reacting to the stronger one in the room.

Renard left the man to his late hours and disappeared out of the building as quietly as he had come.

He checked the time. Just past nine p.m. It was time to get to his next appointment.

tbc...


	16. Chapter 16

The place was dark with a greasy and dirty look to it. It was located in an area of town no sane person would venture into after dark and few visited throughout the day. The area was ruled by gangs, was the regular witness of fights, and sometimes things broke. Police had given up on chasing the gang members once they had entered the maze of back alleys, littered and narrow side streets, and the partially condemned buildings.

The building housing the workshop belonged to the few who had not been declared condemned. It had been a factory once, the old conveyer belts standing still and gathering dust now, the smell of grease and oil hanging in the air, mixed with decay. One wall was hidden behind stacks of crates.

Renard looked around in disgust. He had left Portland to come here, a brief trip that would hardly be noted, even by his mate, who was safe at home and asleep.

Not so the regnant.

He had made this trip alone for a reason.

“Terrence,” he said into the dead quiet of the place.

There was movement and Renard could see the only other occupant of the building quite clearly, his eyes fully wesen and glowing in the meager light.

“Your highness,” the wesen answered, voice holding a tremor he was trying to – unsuccessfully – suppress. “What an honor…”

“Spare me your groveling.” Renard bared sharp teeth, the only sign of his loss of control at the sight of the schakal. 

"You have to understand my position! I was bound by a contract!" the other man said urgently as he came closer, ducking down a little and twisting his hands.

"It wouldn't have been the first you break," Renard replied coldly. 

"I gave my word!" 

“Your word is worth nothing. Your services require not words but money. I know where the money came from. I closed that particular pipeline. For good.” Renard, his face hidden in the shadows and only partially visible, smiled coldly. “You shouldn’t have made this mistake.”

“My friend, please! If I had known…!”

He moved so fast, the other had no time to react. Renard wrapped a hand around the thin throat. Terrence squeaked in terror as the Guardian leaned in close.

“I am hardly your friend.”

“Your highness,” the thug stuttered, his features shifting briefly into that of a schakal.

“You accepted a hit on Nick Burkhardt. The Grimm. My mate.”

“I… I…”

“You are going to be in a world of pain if you keep your contract.”

"No! Oh, nonono! You have it all wrong!" Terrence held up his hands. "As far as I am concerned, the contract’s invalid. I did my best to fulfill what I was hired me to do. I failed." A sleazy grin flitted over his features. "Even though I hate to admit failure."

Renard tossed him aside and the other wesen scrambled away, trying to get a safe distance between himself and the Guardian. Not that there was safety anywhere. 

“You really killed Family members? Royals?”

“Yes, I killed Royals,” he said in a low voice. “Not just one. I’m done playing by the rules.”

Renard smiled, showing fangs that had Terrence swallow noisily, then he turned and walked away.

His car was still where he had left it, untouched. While there were more schakale and other unsavory creatures around, they wouldn’t think of even showing themselves. Their fear of the powerful Guardian who had a mate who had taken out two very deadly wesen sent to kill him was keeping them in their hiding places.

Yes, he was done playing by the rules. He had shown it quite clearly and he would continue to do so unless the Families finally got a clue.

Knowing their inbred intellect and drawing from past experiences, it might take a few more drastic measures to make sure the lessons stuck.

*

In the abandoned warehouse a shadow crept up behind the hapless Terrence. The schakal was still visibly shaken, but he was getting himself back together. He walked over to a laptop and waited for a video link to establish. He had a report to make and his employer was probably waiting impatiently. Maybe there was a bonus for him. He might not have succeeded in killing the Grimm, but he suspected some information on the Guardian would get him money, too.

Terrence wasn’t stupid; he was simply greedy. He knew Portland wasn’t the best place to be right now, especially since it was once again under the protection of a regnant, but hey, he could make money out of this. A lot. And he was the go-to guy for the Families. If he played his cards right he would come out on top and he would have money to boot. Renard couldn’t stay on top forever.

A shiver raced down his spine. The schakal had not even a second to realize he wasn’t alone and maybe scream.

She was upon him and silencing his possibly cries forever.

*

When the link connected, all the man could see was blood splashed all over the screen; all he could hear was the sound of flesh tearing.

Finally a face filled the blotchy screen, barely recognizable for the blood on the webcam and on the wesen’s face.

The man reeled back a little at the bloodied features. Terror spread through him when his brain realized what he was looking at. A very primal side to him screamed in silent terror inside his head, the flight reflex so strong it took everything for him not to bolt – despite the fact that he was only looking at a live feed and not the real thing.

The camera link was cut.

In Vienna, Anton Krung switched off his own side of the link, pale and shook up. His trembling finger raked through sweaty strands of hair. Brown eyes darted across the room, looking at shadows as if they would move and come for him.

He was one of the lucky survivors of the rage, but he wondered for how long. His Family had made a huge mistake and they were just about now realizing how huge. He had lost valuable assets; like Mia. A few daring ones of his family were mumbling about revenge, about showing the regnants they wouldn’t just take the insult, but more were cautioning the unruly ones. If this got out of hand more Family blood would be shed. Copiously. There might not even be survivors the next time. 

Krung closed his eyes, steadying his nerves at the thought of what could still be happening.

It might be a good idea to move to the countryside and lay low for a little while. 

A decade or two. 

Maybe more.

* * *

Renard was home by morning, walking into Nick’s home as if he had never planned to be anywhere else. Autumn had by now moved in full force, accompanied by the first slivers of winter, and the weather was cold and foggy. For a Sunday it was a rather unappealing day to be outside.

They came together, each acutely aware of the other man, and the kiss was more than just a greeting. Sean’s hands were sliding over Nick’s body, as if he was once again familiarizing himself with his mate, and it didn’t take much more of a hint for Nick to know he would be spending today mostly naked and very much sated.

But since he wasn’t the one to just turn over and spread his legs, he pushed back slightly and with a wicked grin went down on his knees, eyes on his prize.

Sean’s pupils blew wide within moments and he groaned as Nick took him out and swallowed him deep.

“Nick…” he breathed.

Hands curled against the counter top, clawing into the wood, and Nick knew his mate wouldn’t last. He was still too much on the edge, even after the last twenty-four hours, and the Grimm was only too happy to keep him that way, milk it for all it was worth, so to speak and pun intended, and tease the regnant until it wouldn’t be safe anymore to hold out on him.

So Nick didn’t hurry. He was taking his sweet time. Sean’s mouth was open, he was breathing in harsh little gasps, and his legs were starting to tremble. By now the golden flecks were dominant in the green eyes and Nick knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

He scraped his teeth over the hard shaft and the regnant moaned. Nick squeezed the balls in his hand and did it again and suddenly Sean shouted his name. Nick swallowed, then drew back, smiling hungrily at the taller man. He licked his lips.

Renard was on him like lightning, the kiss hard and bruising and claiming him, his hands already working on Nick’s pant, which seemed way too tight anyway.

The hard strokes that followed had him grunt and push even more into the strong hands. 

 

They lay together on the floor, breathing hard, and Nick grinned when he looked at Renard. The expression in his mate’s face was one of sated hunger, but one that wasn’t completely gone yet.

“If I call in sick, Hank will know. And Wu probably, too.”

Sean chuckled, nuzzling his neck and throat. “Very probable.”

“So I gotta go.”

“Hm-mm.” Renard nipped along his jaw.

Nick laughed and pushed himself up on his elbows when Sean got up, watching the naked form walk over to the bathroom with an expression that was a clear invitation for the Grimm to follow.

Oh hell, yeah!

He still had time for a shower – and a shower after that. 

Nick got up and followed.

 

tbc...


	17. Chapter 17

“You got a goddaughter? Congratulations, man!”

Monroe slapped his shoulder and Nick chuckled as he accepted the tea that came with the friendly slap.

“Her name is Penny. Well, Penelope Nicole. Zoe told me that her grandmother’s name was Penelope.”

Monroe smiled. “We all know why she is a Nicole, too.”

That had the Grimm blush faintly. “I wouldn’t have wanted that. Really. She kinda broadsided me with that.”

“Hey, it’s nice. Godparents are right next to grandparents. You can spoil her rotten!”

Nick sat down, shrugging. “It’s just a bit strange that she asked me. I’m a Grimm, Monroe.”

“As if we would ever forget.”

“That’s the point.”

“No, the point is that you are the best that happened to a lot of us in the past years and Zoe loves you to pieces. Well, not like she loves Gary, you know, but man, she was ready to bash your mother over the head with a baseball bat. While pregnant!” He stopped, then added, “Zoe. Not your mother.”

Nick drank some more tea. “And the more involved you all get, the more dangerous it gets. Now she is a mother. She has a family to worry about.”

“And her baseball bat wielding skills will get even fiercer. Nick, dude, snap out of it, okay? Wesen live in a dangerous world. Some more than others. We chose you, man. End of story. If you keep falling into the guilt pit every time something happens… you’ll be one busy Grimm.”

Nick chuckled. “True.”

“And Renard took care of the situation for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Heads rolled, end of that chapter in the story. Better theirs than ours, I say.”

“Truer words and all, Monroe.”

The blutbad lifted his mug. “Cheers. Speaking of bloodshed and all…”

Nick rolled his eyes.

“You two made up in a good way.”

Now the blush came back.

Monroe smirked and tapped his nose.

Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Very tell-tale,” his friend only said. “And good for you.”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“You are talking about it.” Nose-tapping again. “I think Rosalee can mix you a really good herbal shower gel…”

“Monroe…”

“Really good. I tried it and… let me tell you, man, it was really good!”

“Monroe!”

The blutbad cleared his throat, light embarrassment reflecting on his face, but his eyes were filled with memories that were clearly x-rated. Nick ignored it because apparently he smelled like he and Sean had had sex just recently to a blutbad. And wasn’t that the truth.

“Yes, well, enough about that. Renard’s back then.”

“Yeah.”

“And you know where he went off to and why?”

The Grimm nodded.

“Anything you wanna share? Can share? Not that I really want to know or anything…”

“I think that’s no longer an option, Monroe. It’s why I’m here. Things happened and I think you need to hear about them, too.”

Monroe looked suddenly serious. “Sounds bad,” he said quietly. “And like I’ll need something stronger than tea.”

“Probably.”

 

In the end Monroe needed a very strong tea with a very strong extra shot.

* * *

“You can be proud of him.”

Renard leaned back in his seat, smiling a little even though his sister couldn’t see it through the phone. “I am.”

“Handling a Protectorate and three assassins?” Mireille sounded amused. “Well, two, actually.”

Sean smirked. “Yes, two.”

“You sound insanely proud, dear brother.”

And he was. His mate had taken out two very dangerous wesen on his own. 

“His allies are commendable as well,” Mireille went on, still far too amused. “I hope you thanked him for what he did for King and Protectorate.”

Thankfully she hadn’t said Queen and Country.

“I’m hardly a king.”

“Hm, right. But your little Grimm has grown up so quickly.”

He chuckled, gazing out the window. It was dark outside, a steady drizzle obscuring the view.

“Have you talked to Maurice?” Mireille changed the topic.

“No. Was I required to?”

“Oh, Sean. Still holding a grudge?”

“No.”

“Liar, liar…”

“He’s fine, Miri. You can’t kill the bastard that easily.”

“I know.”

“He says hi, by the way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“I’m glad everything worked out, Sean. For everyone. We did what was necessary and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Renard turned away from the window, noting Mireille’s tone of voice. Gone was the softness, the teasing. There was the edge of the regnant in there, the lingering blood lust, the rage that had taken lives. 

“They won’t touch us or him again.”

“For now.”

“If they dare, more will die.”

Renard smiled darkly at the proclamation, the promise, the vow. He had no doubt that Chile and England was currently not a good place to be for any member of the Royal Families or their allies. 

“I believe we shall have some quiet time for now, little brother,” Mireille said. “Nick will have only his usual Grimm things to take care of. And we have territories to run.”

Yes, they had. And yes, Nick would, too.

“Thank you, Mireille,” he said softly.

There was a moment of silence, then she answered, “You are very welcome, little brother. Very, very welcome. You know I love your Grimm almost as much as you do. Take care of him.”

He smiled. “I will.”

Mireille didn’t have to tell him. Nick was his mate and so much more. Sean regretted what he had had to do, but his Grimm understood and they had come out so much stronger.

* * *

Things returned to normal with his allied front of wesen. The community was settling down since the regnant was back. While the eisbiber lodge continued to send food, Nick could finally convince the neighborhood watch to stand down. Gary, now a new father and more fierce in his protection of his little family than Nick had ever seen him, agreed, but only because his baby kept him up at night and he was too tired to argue. Bruce had simply shrugged, but Nick still saw him now and then. Bud had promised to stop the gifts, but not until Phoebe had filled Nick’s fridge nothing short of overflowing. She had then redirected her mothering efforts; baby Penelope now had a quilted baby blanket and wouldn’t run out of knit jackets, socks and hats.

Monroe and Rosalee accepted some of the surplus food. The blutbad commented on the wonderful taste of the vegetable lasagna and Nick was happy to hand him two more containers of it. Two very big containers.

Phoebe was a very well-meaning cook indeed. And a very good one.

Sean watched it with silent amusement and a lot of still-possessive vibes. He had made the house his home and Nick felt it more than ever. He didn’t mind, though. It felt good. It felt actually close to perfect. 

 

He hadn’t brought up his encounter with the nachträuber in any of their talks, but Nick knew he had to.

She had left quite an impression on the Grimm, who had thought that such terrifying surprises were a thing of the past. Apparently not.

He wondered if his mother had ever met a nachträuber.

“I met Diana.”

Renard looked up from the study of his cell phone. Whatever he had been reading there had held his interest for a while. Now he regarded Nick with that stead, impenetrable mask that worked on subordinates and superiors alike, but not on a Grimm with a psychic link.

“Who is she? Really, not on paper.”

“On paper?”

Nick didn’t waver in his confrontation, holding the green eyes firmly. “I ran a background check. No priors, not even a parking ticket, just an upstanding citizen who even pays taxes on time.”

Renard’s lips twitched in a humorless smile. “Had you expected anything less?”

“Not really. So, Diana Merdez?”

“You saw what she is.” It wasn’t even a question.

“She quite voluntarily showed me.”

Sean’s eyebrows rose a little.

“I had to dig deep into the books and still there are too many names and descriptions, and nothing seems to stick.”

“That’s correct.”

Nick refused to be baited, to lose his temper. He just stared back; hard. He refused to be pushed aside. Sean had led him to Diana for a reason. She was part of his territory, a strong and vicious wesen, and he used her as his weapon, she had said.

Finally the Guardian slipped the cell into his pocket and leaned back, giving his mate a neutral look.

“What is she to Grimms?” he wanted to know.

“A mysterious wesen no one could pin down or make sense of,” Nick told him readily. “Bird-like, powerful, serving a master and sworn to his side for life, unable to betray him.”

Renard nodded.

“I found so many names for her kind and most recently nachträuber.”

Another nod. “One of many, true.”

“And her real name?”

“Lost. I’m not sure they ever had one. Nachträuber is the most common now.”

“What is she?”

“A predator, Nick. A strong and ice cold predator. Superior to many others.”

_Even you?_ Nick thought, directing the question quite openly at his mate.

Sean smiled. Maybe even him, yes.

“But as with everything, there is a flaw, a drawback,” he went on. “There is no perfect predator or perfect prey.”

“So what’s hers?”

“Her instincts. Diana is a formidable weapon for any to wield and nachträuber rarely act on their own. They exist within society and never have the urge to maim or kill just for fun. When threatened they terrify their opponent into flight, and only if that doesn’t work will they resort to violence.”

Nick frowned. That sounded almost too good to be true. Renard saw the doubt and gave him a tiny smile.

“The reason as to why they try to avoid killing is easy: the blood rush. Their instincts are incredibly strong and if they lose themselves in their lust for blood, they won’t stop. They need someone to stop them and that never goes too well. Even their own kind is prone to die when one of them goes into such a rare.”

“So they choose a bond to a master?”

A shrug. “Some do. Others just stay away from humanity.”

“You control her?”

“Diana and her kind are living on an edge that would have toppled others, and they know it. When I use her skills to protect my territory I have to be careful. She will kill, she will use that moment to satisfy her carnal desires, and she will follow my orders to their full extent. She won’t kill anyone but the target, unless she is threatened. Then all bets are off. She walks that line ever since birth. Is it control? I’m not so sure.”

Nick digested that. He had seen her true nature and he had felt the hunger the wesen emitted, her restraint, her control, her incredible power over her own desires.

“You sent me to her,” he finally stated.

“I left you the name of the club,” Renard corrected him.

Nick shot him a dark look. “That’s just as good. And it wasn’t just to keep me busy to stop me from coming after you, right? You wanted me to meet her.”

“You would have come across Diana sooner or later. I also wanted her to meet you, Nick. You are my mate. You’re my right hand, my Grimm.”

“Your weapon,” Nick said softly.

Sean rose fluidly, closing the distance. “You’re not a weapon, Nick. You’re an asset. You’re mine.”

The last was almost a growl.

“She offered her services to me,” the Grimm replied, a small smile in his eyes.

Renard chuckled. “That she would.”

“So the reason you haven’t sent her after reapers and the like is because she is prone to go out of control?”

A nod. “She is as dangerous as she is formidable, and a good blade needs to stay sharp, Nick. Feeding frenzy will dull her senses.”

“She eats her victims?” Nick blinked.

“No. She is a bit of a vampire in that regard. She drinks part of their blood.”

He grimaced. “So there’s that fairy tale as well,” he muttered.

“Hardly encouraged by nachträuber activity. Their physiology demands it. Raw meat and blood. Not a nice sight, but it comes in handy.”

Nick shook his head and sighed. 

“History has countless reports about nachträuber blood rage. Diana has chosen to live in a Protectorate, offering her services to me.” Renard smiled, cool, calculating. “I accepted.”

Nick regarded him silently for a very long time, head tilting a little, looking at his mate, studying, waiting, sensing along the link.

Finally he nodded. He had to accept it. There was no way around it.

* * *

Nick had finally rearranged the contents of the fridge with everything he had been given. Most of it had gone into the freezer. When Mireille called, he was in the middle of trying to free his backyard of dead leaves. He gladly abandoned his Saturday afternoon chore and sat down on the porch. It was an exceptionally warm day. The sun was out, there was hardly any wind, and it was truly a golden October. 

“Hey, Miri,” he greeted his kind-of-but-not-quite-sister-in-law. “How are you?”

“Perfect, my dear. Thank you for asking.” She laughed. “Of course I’m good, Nick. You wouldn’t think such a little quarrel could put me down for long, right?”

Little quarrel? From what he had seen on Sean, the little quarrel had been more like a full blown fight to the death. Well, it had resulted in death. Royals had died.

“Andrew has been fussing over me for days now,” Mireille added. “He should know I don’t break easily.”

“But you’re enjoying it.”

She laughed. “Yes, I certainly do. So how is Sean enjoying it?”

He grinned. “You’re siblings. Guess.”

That drew more laughter. “And how are you, my dear Grimm? Any more troubles?”

“None. At least none Grimm-related. Work is work.”

“Ah, yes, a police officer never runs out of cases.”

Their conversation drifted to cases, to Hank knowing about him being a Grimm, about wesen, about the true nature of Sean Renard – though he didn’t really understand the full implications, Nick was sure of it.

It was good to talk to Mireille, to hear her voice. It lifted his worries a little. Sean hadn’t talked about his sister at all. Nick hadn’t inquired into Maurice’s state of health either.

“You do understand why all this happened, don’t you?” she suddenly asked.

Nick, sitting on the steps leading from his porch to the garden, sipped at a bottle of water.

“Yeah. Slowly. It only enhances my complete disdain of political machinations.”

“This is far more than politics, Nick. This was a personal attack on Sean and myself and even Maurice. You know how strong the territorial instinct of a regnant is. You know how far we would go to protect what is ours, our mates included. They made us choose and we chose. Leaving Portland was never an option and for Sean to make it look like he had, he had to overcome a deeply ingrained instinct that’s with us from the moment of our birth. You understand that we do not, ever, leave a Protectorate and simply settle down somewhere else, right?”

“I figured that out,” he said quietly.

“We also don’t leave our mates unprotected. It tore me apart to play this game with Andrew. Maurice is probably not leaving Nadine and his children out of his sight for a while. And Sean? You have first-hand proof of what this did to him. We made sacrifices and we won.”

“How long will it last?”

“Long enough.”

So not forever, he thought. Well, in a way he had known what he would get into with Renard, even if he had never known what being a Grimm meant. No longer a rookie but still learning.

It would be forever, he realized. Always and always learning.

They changed topics yet again, Mireille telling him about her city, about Andrew, even about Maurice, who had apparently been a bit more rattled by the whole affair than he would like to confess. It wouldn’t result in a display of sibling love. He was simply a bit more… human, as she put it.

Nick doubted it. “I hope that doesn’t mean he’s going to appear in Portland again.”

She laughed. “Oh no. Sean would tear him into tiny little pieces. And he won’t leave Santiago and his family any time soon. Maurice has his hands full. Like myself and Sean he never believed he was a direct threat to the Families. We were proven wrong. His early warning network is getting a work-over, as will his defenses. Santiago is becoming a fortress that will soon rival Portland and London.”

Nick had never noticed Portland being a fortress, but that was from a regnant’s point of view now. Sean might just gather more forces to keep his Protectorate save.

“And your family in Europe?” he wanted to know.

“On alert. As are many more regnants not even remotely related to the Renard line. What the Royals did was piss off a very powerful group of wesen and their allies and friends. Their plan to get rid of you and maybe even us backfired tremendously. It might just cut off a few more heads.” 

Mireille sounded darkly satisfied. Nick couldn’t fault her. Deep inside he felt the same. 

“If they know what’s good for them,” the Sean’s sister went on, “they’ll step back and let their bumble blow over.”

Bumble? Nick would have called it a declaration of war. In regnant terms it might just be that.

“We’re not a warrior race, Nick,” she added as if she had heard his thoughts. “We are protectors, guards. We choose to defend, not attack. We will strike back and we will kill mercilessly, but to make this into more than it was – a political skirmish – might blow this completely out of proportion. Wars started like that in the past, with one faction going against another. So far my kind has kept themselves out of things like that, but this time we had to act.”

“Because of me.”

“Because they made it about us, my dear. If they had stuck to their age-old rut of trying to kill Grimms, Sean would have had all the fun himself. And believe me when I tell you, he would have the same amount of blood on his hands today, too.”

“I believe you,” Nick murmured.

“He might be a bit volatile for the next few days,” she told him. “I know I am. And Maurice isn’t any better.”

“Noticed that already.”

“It’ll past. We might not be first strike warriors, but spilled blood touches something dark in any regnant.” She sounded almost sinister and pleased. “Wear him out, Nick. It helps.”

He laughed out loud. “Any more and I’m not going to walk straight any more.”

“You haven’t in a while,” she purred.

And they were back to the teasing sexual innuendo.

When Mireille said good-bye, two hours had passed and the yard looked no better than before. Nick slid the cell back into his pocket and grabbed the rake.

Time to get serious about it.

* * *

Renard’s return to the central precinct was greeted with nods and smiles and the occasional inquiry as to how his family was. Everyone seemed to be glad that their captain was back and routine settled in again. Gervais hadn’t been a bad temp, but as with every precinct a change in command was always accompanied by wariness concerning the new commander and the lack of ambition to adjust to a new personality at the head of their family.

Since this hadn’t been a permanent change, matters were easily falling back into place.

There was no trace of his injuries left. Two more days at home had taken care of that. The bruises had faded away, the cuts had healed, and his fingers were good as new. Wearing a dark suit and a crisp white business shirt, the pale blue tie shiny and new, it was like Renard had donned his old armor and was ready for battle.

Nick watched it all, smiling a little as he followed his mate’s walk through the men and women of the precinct, exchanging a word here or there, until he was in his office.

_Welcome back_ , he thought.

Green eyes looked at him through partially opened blinds, across a room filled with detectives and uniforms, and no one knew.

Renard’s smile was private, the gentle tug at the bond simply an acknowledgement.

“Back to normal, hm?” Hank drew him out of his thoughts.

Nick gave him a grin. “As good as normal.”

“You got an explanation where he went off to?”

He nodded.

Hank waited, a curious expression in his eyes. Nick shrugged.

“Business trip,” he worded it carefully.

His partner understood. He pursed his lips, glancing at the office of their captain, then back to Nick.

“Trouble?”

“Not any more.”

“Just the usual?”

Nick grinned more. “Just the usual.”

A folder landed on Hank’s desk and Wu gave them an expectant look. “Speaking of the usual, here’s your usual murder-suicide-suspicious-circumstance-case. Have fun, boys.”

Hank chuckled and grabbed the pale yellow folder, looking through it. He grimaced.

“Fun?” Nick queried, knowing the answer.

“Oh, yeah. Tons. Suicide that got booted to us because of some suspicious findings. Well, vacation’s over. Let’s go.”

Nick rose and grabbed his jacket, following his partner.

Business as usual.


End file.
